Queen Takes Pawn
by Syrenia
Summary: ‹Sequel; Nolanverse; AU; Pairings Inside› Chelsie learns that dealing with an obsessive Joker who thinks he's in love is difficult, while Jonathan and Scarecrow meet their new psychiatrist after Dr. Grayson suicides.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Queen Takes Pawn

**Subject:** Batman

**Genres:** Drama/Romance

**Sub-genres:** Action

**Front Summary:** ‹Sequel; Nolanverse; AU; Pairings Inside› Chelsie learns that dealing with an obsessive Joker who thinks he's in love is difficult, while Jonathan and Scarecrow meet their new psychiatrist after Dr. Grayson suicides.

**Summary:** ‹Sequel; Nolanverse; AU; Pairings In Separate Section› Chelsie learns that dealing with an obsessive Joker who thinks he's in love is difficult, while Jonathan and Scarecrow meet their new psychiatrist after Dr. Grayson suicides on account of the wayward doctor's manipulative words. Three guesses on who's his new psychiatrist! And what, I wonder, will become of the love triangle in this sequel to _As The Crow Flies_?

* * *

**Pairings:**

**SPOILERS BELOW**

Jack/JokerxChelsie/Crow(OC)

Minor Jonathan/ScarecrowxChelsie/Crow(OC)

**END SPOILERS**

(Note: That's as clear as I can make the pairings without becoming overly complicated with specifics.)

* * *

**Notes:** This story is a sequel to _As The Crow Flies_. To understand this particular fic, you ought to read the first one. It helps for you to understand who Chelsie and Crow (OC(s)) are, and other bits.

Also, I know the Joker is supposed to be sort of asexual (at least in Ledger's version, as many people say), so there's no need to give me a lecture. However, it's _obvious_ by all the JokerxOC (_And_ JokerxHarley Quinn, of course!) fanfics out there that the fangirls want him to be otherwise. I myself think it's a pretty interesting road to go down, so my AU has removed the asexual label from the Clown Prince of Crime.

(I know it would fit better to be under Burton's Joker, but I don't think he has the kind of following Heath Ledger's Joker had as far as fangirls go.)

However, that does not mean he is in any way a _romantic_ type of person. The kind of love - and I believe there's all _kinds_ of love in the world (none of it pure) - that he displays is obsessive and possessive in order to fit better with his persona.

If you're a purist who can't stand to see the Nolanverse Joker as anything but asexual or with Harley Quinn _only_, this fic is not for you.

Mostly, this one goes out to all the JokerxOC lovers and writers.

Don't get me wrong, JokerxHarley Quinn is yummy, but I'm an OCxCanon writer.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine.

* * *

**A/N:** This is where Author's Notes will go from now on.

The song clip below the chapter title is from Jamie Cullen's _Get Your Way_. I in no way claim the song or its lyrics as my own.

I thought since I ended the first fic with a song lyric, I might as well open this one with one.

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Prologue - Intrigue**

* * *

_Try to pick it up, reading the signs;  
It's turning out to be a real good time  
And who'd have thought that entertainment  
Lies in the winter of your discontent_

_Now, sit at the table, face to face  
Queen takes pawn, check or checkmate!  
I feel your foot brush against my leg  
I'm not that easily led_

_You flutter your eyes and you toss your hair  
I have to say that it is kind of unfair  
Let me tell you, baby, now what's in store;  
You win the battle, but I'll win the war!_

~ Jamie Cullen - Get Your Way

* * *

Things were going swimmingly for Chelsie and Crow - at least as well as _could_ be with Jonathan/Scarecrow locked up in Arkham, the poor dears - but both personas loved chaos just as much as fear and decided to stir things up a little.

Crow exchanged toxin for explosives, her thugs from the mob helping her to blow many buildings of varying importance to smithereens.

First, she blew up a bank without stealing any money. Second, she blasted away at a clothing store - Crow and Chelsie had deemed it as having terrible fashions - because they sold real fur. Third, Crow made a public appearance near a popular Burger King and taped herself with the building blowing up in the background.

* * *

Standing on top of a building at noon near her next target, a popular Burger King, Crow and Chelsie turned on their camera, the former gesturing to the building behind her.

"Hello. My name is _Crow_! See this lovely _Burger King_, Gotham citizens?" Crow asked in her scratchy-soft voice. "Well, I have a surprise in store for you today!"

She held up a small box with a red button which was obviously a detonator.

"Why, you ask, am I going to blow a Burger King to smithereens?" she crowed out with a following laugh. "My dear, they say "have it your way" and _my_ way is with explosives!"

Chelsie chuckled at the back of their shared mind, enjoying the show.

Crow's thumb hovered over the red button, "Now, children, haven't your mommies and daddies taught you not to go about pressing red buttons all _willy-nilly_? Well, my lovelies, _this_ is why!"

Her thumb smashed down on the button, the explosion of the Burger King building making Crow fall onto the floor as she cackled madly.

"You get to see this _live_ because my men have us hooked up with their technical mumbo-jumbo," she told her audience from her new seat on the roof. "_Now_, I know I'll definitely become the enemy of that Batboy hero of Gotham, but I wouldn't mind it at all. In fact, that's what I _want_!"

Her countenance grew serious, "Batty, you _intrigue_ me. Why do you fight for good in a world of evil? And for all these _pathetic_, _undeserving_ people who pretend to live normal, innocent lives like ants in a colony? Batty, Batty, Batty, they don't deserve you one _bit_!"

She then stood, turning the camera away from her and onto the smoking, fiery Burger King, the wails of victims caught in the explosion still audible.

"I blew up a bank because people covet money, I destroyed a clothing store because it sold real fur and now I've gotten rid of this Burger King because... it looked like it needed to be blown up! Heehee!"

Swinging the camera back around to face her, she smiled at her audience.

"Come _find_ me, Batty-kins," she teased. "I want to meet Gotham's own criminal slash hero!"

With that, she cut off the camera, running over to the thugs and giving it to them.

"Aren't you going to wait for the Bat?" one thug asked with a grin.

All her men didn't fear Crow; they knew she was coo-coo for cocoa puffs, but she wasn't out of control, and most of the time, she'd rather _fuck_ them than _hurt_ them.

She waved at him dismissively, "Bats only come out at night."

And they all shared a good laugh.

* * *

The Joker turned off the TV after Crow's first video to the public.

Normally, women didn't fascinate him in the least. On the contrary, they were rather annoying and an unwanted distraction. But _this_ particular woman had captured his interest thus far.

At first, buildings blew up and no one took claim of the acts, the fact that someone else was attempting to copycat him to some degree making him agitated and intrigued at the same time.

Once the culprit showed her face, however, he eagerly awaited more.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine if it's not stuff from the movies.

* * *

**A/N:** Welcome to the first chapter! Yaaaay!

First of all, thank you to my first reviewer on this fic! Much love to you, .., and I thank you for your compliments. It's great to see someone so enthusiastic about the series! :)

Second of all, I made a _liiittle_ mistake in the last chapter. The singer's name was Jamie Cullum, not Cullen. _Oops_!

And finally, _no_, the Joker doesn't just all the sudden _love_ her in this fic. It's just a surprising physical attraction at this point, which is more believable (at least to me), half so because it's so random and he's sometimes random like that, in my view. (And the attraction had to start _somehow_ or I would have just wrote tons of useless chapters of "getting to know each other" crap that's boring, so consider yourself _lucky_. lol)

As a note, even though someone got so hyped up over my _last_ story to roll out rants about everything wrong with it with a bunch of their personal opinions, I'm going to _assume_ that the reviews where people actually _liked_ the story were sincere.

Thus, I'm continuing with posting _this_ one.

My comment is not to deter you guys from constructive criticism, though. I was _glad_ someone had enough guts to tell me what they thought was wrong and I appreciate that they took the time to review. (I'm not sure what they wanted me to _do_, though, as the whole scenario of Jonathan/Scarecrow being in a relationship in the first place is totally _improbable_. I believe it can only happen in an AU where he's more human and susceptible to human emotion, which I kind of stated in the first fic. Maybe I didn't state it right.)

However, please don't take it so seriously that your criticism turns into a _rant_. That's kind of... _sad_. My silly fanfiction is insignificant; it's not worth getting hyped up over and having a hernia or anything. lol

And if you're giving criticism, it's good to also say what you _like_ if only to assure the writer that you're not just trying to put them down. It's actually a form of common courtesy. (It _does_ make me sad when people _only_ point out the many things they find wrong.)

For another pointer, try not to confuse personal opinion with fact; there's a fine line, but it's there. Fanfic is much to do with personal opinion and finding like-minded authors; I can't just cater to your personal opinions alone. That would be _impossible_ to do for every reader, and I've learned the hard way that I can't please everyone (and from Ricky Nelson's _Garden Party_ song which lyrically states: But it's alright now / I learned my lesson well / You see, ya can't please everyone / So ya got to please yourself.).

I _wish_ I could please everybody; I seriously _do_. But, alas, I am human.

But don't be afraid to give me criticism, please! I know some people are skittish about being tough, but I can take it like a big girl. I actually _want_ pointers and stuff, honestly.

But hey, I can't stop you from reviewing however you want. (I just realized I talk a lot. Gawsh.)

Remember: it's fan_fiction_, not _fact_.

Sorry for the lengthy A/N. If you read the whole thing, I'm much obliged.

Damn it, _Garden Party_ is stuck in my head now! :anime tears:

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter One - Unwanted Attention**

* * *

The next time for her criminal activities, Crow decided to blow up as much of Gotham's high school as possible, once again appearing with said building in the distance during the day.

* * *

Crow turned the camera on and danced across the rooftop where she was safe from the impending doom.

"Today, boys and girls, Crow is going to teach you somethin' _new_!" she cooed with a feral grin. "See this little high school, sweetie pie? I'm going to blow it to pieces because that's where my lovely, lovely Scarecrow was tormented by his peers. I can only hope that some of said peers' _children_ are in there today, about to be blown to bits! Heehee!"

Turning the camera onto the school, she took her detonator and pressed the button with glee, a huge explosion sending flames and smoke into the air.

"See what I've _done_, Batty-kins?" she asked, camera still panning over the school. "Find me, or else I'll strike again... and again... and again..."

The woman then quickly turned off the camera, gave it to a thug, and high-tailed it out of there.

* * *

The Joker turned off the TV from Crow's latest video; it gave little to go on and only bared the motive of revenge for the Scarecrow he'd heard so much about.

Why was she so obsessed with the _Scarecrow_?

* * *

Crow's third appearance during the day was from nearby her target of a chain of stores including a Starbucks, a Hot Topic, The Gap, Fye, and other hot spots.

"_Today_," Crow began, looking into the camera, "we're going to experience what's called a "domino effect," babydolls. Building by building behind me will go up in flames because _Batbrains_ apparently doesn't want to _see_ me."

She pouted playfully, then laughed, "Why have I targeted the shopping district? Because people covet material things. Money, clothes, CDs, gourmet coffee, _etcetera_, _etcetera_... I think they care more about these _things_ than they do one another, you see. Because _people_... are evil, selfish creatures who play under the pretense of superiority."

Hitting the button without warning, the row of stores exploded, one after another, and she visibly savored the sounds of destruction like a particularly potent aphrodisiac.

Once the noise wasn't so loud, she continued, "How about we all lift the façade, stop the masquerade, and show each other what we _really _are? Because, dear Gotham, your _criminals_ are more human than your policemen."

Her eyes glinted with an alarming mixture of malice and adoration as she hugged herself tightly with her free arm, "Remember Scarecrow? He wore a mask, but he showed us who he truly was - a _beautiful_ sadist! My poor, poor, poor Scarecrow is all locked up in Arkham Asylum because he didn't pretend to be something he's not."

Chelsie sighed at the agitation she felt coming from her counterpart, '_Calm down, Crow._'

"Ladies and gents, you may not know this about me, _but_... I have _two_ personalities," Crow announced, wiggling two fingers at the camera. "My host is quite weak and fragile like a pretty little porcelain _doll_. She was always so, _so_ nice... But did Gotham show her any love?"

She snarled, lips contorting, "_No_! Gotham threw her into the Narrows and treated her like a third-class citizen. I came about to _protect_ us, you see."

'_Crow, hurry up before we get __**caught**__,_' Chelsie hurried her.

"Well, loves, sticks and stones may break our bones, but your pretty little laced up hate will never break us down," she announced confidently with a grin. "We see the world for what it _truly_ is now and our mission is to spread the message. Fuck the game, fuck the rules, and rise above your shells to be what you truly are - _freaks_, just like _me_."

She panted with excitement, "If you agree, show me some love! Get on the web and youtube me your thoughts. Tag it under Crow... Let your freak flags _fly_, my pretties! For tomorrow you may _die_, my pretties. Heehee!"

* * *

The Joker grinned back at the TV before her feed went static, his fingers twirling around a knife.

Crow, he believed, was a fucked up, beautiful freak - a freak just like _he_ was called, though he _wasn't_ a freak, no. And what's more, her views were so akin to his own and always interesting.

And for the first time since he could remember being alive in his current form, something had stirred inside of him as he saw the way she savored the explosions.

He thought himself to be an asexual creature, but he felt a desire to get closer to the woman. He wanted to see her eyes roll back as she devoured the pleasure of a big, fiery bang.

To his surprise, he felt himself sexually aroused by the way a woman thought, looked, and acted... and it wasn't exactly all that _bad_.

* * *

Unfortunately for Chelsie, Crow attracted some unwanted attention with her little stunts...

* * *

Crow and Chelsie were watching the news in their warehouse hideout from their place on the old, black leather couch when the pair saw a new video from another character of interest in Gotham by the title of the Joker.

"Mmm, so, uh... _Crow_, is it?" he asked his camera, his white, red, and black face paint all smeared in a twisted manner. "I've seen your, ah... _wor-__**k**_. You like to - what's the word? - _destroy _things."

"_So_?" Crow asked the TV, bored with the clown.

"I thought we might... _co-llab-o-rate_ sometime soon?" he said, mostly as a question. "_Dying_ to meet you, doll. I think we... we share a similar outloo-_k_ on _real_-ity."

"We _do_?" questioned Crow, leaning forward with a slight interest in him.

The Joker licked his lips, brushing back some of his stringy, greasy, and green-tinted hair.

"Why don't I trac-_k_ you down and we, ah... see how we get along?" he asked, onyx eyes shining at the camera. "Think of it as... an exchange of ideasss - a little powwow over a nice little, ah... _bonfire_. Name the place an-_d_... we'll blow it up."

"He _almost_ sounds like he's answering on a video _dating_ site," muttered Crow, although she was still intrigued, a smile playing at her lips.

Chelsie laughed at the back of their mind, '_Nothing's what it __**seems**__ with him. He probably wants to kill us for trying to steal the spotlight and his precious Battoy._'

"Soooo, dollfac-_e_, just give me a, uh... _reply_?" he asked, seeming uncertain of himself.

The feed then went static, Crow grinning from ear to ear.

"He wants a _reply_, huh?" she asked, standing from the beat up couch beneath her.

* * *

Crow flicked on her camera after making sure she looked alright, now looking into the lens.

"I saw your video, Mister Joker," she cooed. "Very intriguing... _But_, I'm not as stupid as I may _look_, honey bunny. Who's to say you don't just want to kill me for taking some attention off of you and for trying to play with _your_ Battoy, _hm_?"

She smirked, "I'm not at _all_ assured that your intentions for this "_powwow_" are innocent, but if you want to find me, go ahead. Just rest assured that I have more than _one_ ace up my sleeve _and_ I'm not as easily manipulated as your average Gotham citizen."

Chelsie chuckled at the back of their mind, '_You tell him._'

"I'm just stating for the record that I don't trust you one _bit_, which I'm sure you'll find understandable," Crow told the camera. "But from all the work I've seen from you, you seem to be a man of your word, buttercup. Perhaps giving your word that no harm will befall me would reassure me the _tinsiest_ bit? Please respond. Until then, Mister Joker."

* * *

The Joker smirked at the TV, turning it off after watching her video response.

He then leaned back in his couch, licking his lips.

She was turning out to be more fun than expected.

* * *

A few days later, they got their reply.

Joker smiled at the camera, brushing back strands of his still greasy hair.

Did he _ever_ bathe?

"Crow, Crow, Crow," he tutted, shaking his head. "_Kill_ you? No... no, no, no, no."

His tongue darted over one of his scars before he carried on, "I feel we may be, ah... kindred spirits, if you will. Like mindsss... But I give you my wor-_d_ that, uh, I will no-_t_ _harm_ you. No, no... I wan-_t_ you _alive_. You... _fascinate_ me."

Crow quirked a brow, "What the hell is fascinating about _me_?"

"Few people... _intrigue_ me, doll," he told them, cackling merrily. "Soooo, expect a, uh, _visi-__**t**_... sometime soon? You can pick a place and a, um, time and we'll... blow something up? I awai-_t_ your response, doll."

* * *

Crow filmed herself again, though Chelsie was getting tired of these video responses. This time, however, she was in broad daylight near her target of a gas station, which she knew would make an extra big boom.

"Well, Mister Joker, I don't know how like-minded we are, _but_ I must admit, I'm... anxiously awaitin' your appearance, sugarcube," she said, brushing back strands of hair. "I'm sure you won't disappoint... I don't see what you find fascinatin' about me; I'm just another freak on a leash, trying to break free. Hopefully, I won't disappoint any of your expectations."

Crow then grinned, "But I _do_ have a present for you, sweetums! I'm goin' to blow up a _gas_ station! My first hit on a gas station, _too_... I got as far away as possible while still havin' a nice li'l view... Now, _shall we_?"

She held up the detonator, pressed the button, and filmed both herself and the explosion.

The flames were terribly, terribly high and the smoke was everywhere, Crow's eyes rolling in pleasure to the panicked screams and chaotic sounds below.

She licked her lips, "How was that for a boom, boom, _boom_, baby? Heehee!"

'_Wrap it __**up**__, Crow,_' her other half urged her.

"So, Mister Joker, I have a place and time in mind for a li'l... _renovation_, so... why don't we get out from behind our lenses and meet up, buttercup?" she asked. "I'll be... waitin'."

She then winked, blew a kiss, and turned off the camera.

'_That was far too flirtatious for __**my**__ tastes,_' Chelsie chided, Crow just laughing at her.

* * *

The Joker replayed the last video response over and over, all the more attracted to this curious woman.

He couldn't recall ever having such an urge to fuck someone so badly and he couldn't help finding himself in the shower, fantasizing about taking Crow and her host by proxy as a bonus with the sound of exploding buildings as their background music.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine.

* * *

**A/N:** And finally, the meet-up!

Also, the first reviewer's name didn't show up because of the periods in the last A/N. Silly ff net thought I was trying to post a link! The name was Beckoning Disaster. Sorry! ;P

Oh, and the Joker doesn't physically hurt her in an actual scene yet. Eventually, I'll show some of that since it's not right to make him too soft. (Like I haven't softened him by making a _romance_ with him! :eye roll: Joker romances are _so_ improbable; I've only seen _one_ where it looked somewhat realistic from a much better writer than myself. It kind of got boring to me, though, 'cause it was so serious. I'm such a light-hearted person.)

I never thought to say it before, but if you've got any suggestions about things to work into the story, feel free to suggest them. I may not be able to fit it in, but I will damn well _try_. I _promise_.

As always, constructive criticism is welcomed.

Flames light my furnace of doom, but I accept them. Not like I can stop ya!

I'm havin' fun with this, and I hope you are, too! :)

One small note, I'm not fluent in Japanese. If my use of the language was incorrect, you are encouraged to inform me. However, I ask that you just pretend it was correct in the story instead of making me repost the chapter. (It's not that big of a deal as to repost this whole thing.)

PS - It's come to my attention that "tinsiest" is not a word. It's supposed to be "teensiest," but I don't like it that way and other people showed up on google who spell it my way. So I've decided I shall take the new spelling under my wing, regardless of the feelings of the English language. ;P

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Two - Uncomfortable**

* * *

The Joker crept into a darkened room, onyx eyes spotting the form of the only female in the warehouse as he pulled out his favorite knife. It had to be _her_, the infuriatingly wonderful woman he'd been fantasizing about for roughly a week after so many video responses.

He'd taken his time before deciding to find her. He was like the dog and she was the car that he wouldn't know what to do with when he caught her, to coin a phrase he liked to use.

But he had finally made his appearance, though Crow and her host didn't even know it, lying vulnerable in the king-sized bed.

He stalked closer to her bed, the light of the moon cascading over her body from a nearby window.

What he wanted to see now was her face unmasked by her usual black beak, so he crept to her side, seeing her face clearly in the moonlight.

She was prettier than he'd expected without the mask, but then again, what did he know about women and beauty? All he knew was that he wanted to bring her back to his hideout, regardless of how _she_ felt about the matter. He wanted to keep her as his own fuck toy since she was apparently the only thing that got him off in that manner.

When she moaned and shifted in her sleep, he jerked back a little as if she might awaken and pounce before devouring him whole.

Though he'd never admit it, he was the tinsiest bit _intimidated_ by her - an entirely undeserved reaction, he believed - but he walked forward and slowly crouched down, eyes studying her pale, moonlit face.

Then he recognized her, his head tilted slightly; she was the woman at the bank that day whose lack of fear or any real emotion had intrigued him.

"Small world" was the phrase that came to mind.

Then the song _It's a Small World (After All)_ got stuck in his head, a particular fit of delirium he could have done without.

Softly, she mumbled with a contented smile, "_Scarecrow_..."

His lips twitched. Why was she so fucking fascinated with this _Scarecrow_ character?

He calmed himself, however, and assured his agitated mind that soon she would be whispering _his_ name in her sleep like she damn well _should_.

After all, it was all _her_ fault for stirring up these frustrating feelings and needs in him.

He wanted to make her his in a purely sexual sense. If she could make _him_, of all men, desire her, she had to be some kind of special. He decided she could use his guidance and, in return, he'd have her body and mind all for himself.

Oddly, he felt that without her beautifully fucked up mind, she wasn't anything worth taking. But because of who she was, she was so desirable to him.

Those thoughts alone were overwhelming.

He breathed heavily, tired of thinking as he crouched there, so he stood slowly, pocketing his precious knife.

With nothing else to do and no real desire to wake her from her rest, he went to the other side of the bed. Shrugging out of his jacket, he tossed it over a chair as he loosened his tie. Then he got into bed beside her, hesitantly deciding to hold her so he could feel her body against him.

The song stuck in his head even still, he hummed the tune softly.

Not long after, he fell into the first peaceful slumber he'd had in so very long, a sleep untainted by foggy recollections of a dark past in multiple choice.

* * *

Chelsie's eyes blinked open, checking the time on her alarm clock - 7:58 AM - before she yawned like a cat. But when she tried to move, she heard someone groan and felt them tighten their grip around her waist.

"What the _heck_?" she asked quietly, rolling over to face none other than the Clown Prince of Crime. "It's not every day you wake up to a _clown_ in your bed... I _knew_ he'd make some kind of an entrance, but _this_ was not expected."

Sure, she should probably have been afraid, but Chelsie was never as frightened of anything as she should be. She herself reasoned it must have something to do with her list of mental illnesses. And maybe she was just slightly dumb; she didn't know, but it sounded plausible. Anyway you looked at it, she was somewhat fucked up just like every other villain in Gotham who eventually donned some sort of costume.

She then caught his scent; it was a curious mix of sweat, gunpowder and a slightly twisted and enhanced smell of a _component_ of gunpowder which was undoubtedly sulfur. Oh, and the smell of an obvious lack of good hygiene. _Yikes_.

It contrasted the clean smell of Jonathan greatly, but thankfully enough, her sense of smell was rather weak to most things other than the curious case of salad, so the offensive scent wasn't quite so overpowering to her poor nose.

She then tried to get free of his grip, but he pulled her closer, muttering, "_Crow_..."

"Uh, Mister Joker?" she asked warily, poking him in the ribs.

In hindsight, that would not have appeared to be the best choice she'd ever made, but Chelsie was not a person who often made good choices. (Hence taking in a straitjacketed Crane, letting him live with her, letting him take her into his life of crime, etc.)

Instinctively, the Joker's eyes flew open to her touch, hand taking a hidden knife from only God knew where and placing the blade to her throat.

"Woah there. _Easy_ now," she soothed him like a spooked horse, pulling away from the blade. "I'm not a morning person _either_, but this is _ridiculous_."

His wide eyes relaxed as he chuckled, putting away the blade just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Old habitsss," he gave by way of explanation.

"By the way, I'm the _host_ Crow talked about," Chelsie told him with guarded eyes. "The name's Chelsie Alice Crow, but I'm sure you're here to see the ever-popular Crow, _so_--"

"Wai-_t_," he ordered, the woman cutting her sentence short, her thin eyebrows lifted. "She said you were wea-_k_ and, uh... _fragile_."

Chelsie frowned and answered in monotone, "Yeah, I am. I'm the damsel in distress. Crow's my hero."

"I expected you'd be, ah... _afrai-__**d**_ of me-_uh_?" he asked, a little amused, though he clearly remembered her lack of fear from the bank heist.

He realized she was a little weird, and was only asking to get to the bottom of the matter, knowing she probably had no idea he remembered their true first meeting.

"I probably _should_ be, but I handle fear very differently from others," she explained to the clown, never realizing he remembered her from the robbery. "I have fears, but... they don't control me or affect me much... Anyway, Crow's _dying_ to meet you."

She blinked, and Crow looked around.

"Where the fuck is my _mask_, Chels?" Crow asked aloud, sitting up and looking all over for her precious beak. "Nobody takes me seriously lookin' like _this_."

She looked down at her leopard print pajamas, pulling at the clothing with disdain.

"Leopard print is for _whores_," she muttered.

The Joker laughed, "I think it, uh... looks nice."

She looked over, "I didn't peg you as a _leopard print_ kind of person, cupcake... You learn something new every day."

She then extended her hand with a wide grin, "Crow, at your service."

His gloved hand shook hers, then pulled her down to lie beside him.

"So, are you actually not going to _kill_ me?" she asked almost incredulously, looking into his dark eyes that were reminiscent of black holes, sucking up the light greedily.

"I'm a man of my wor-_d_," he replied, holding up a hand, the other to his heart. "Boy scouts' honor."

She giggled and he found it to be a pleasant sound, just as it had been in her videos.

"_Sooo_... _Crow_. Crow, Crow, Crow," he repeated, letting her name fill his mouth as he smacked his lips. "Who's this, uh... _Scarecrow_?"

"Oh, Scarecrow is my _creator_! He raped Chels and here I am," she announced with a twisted and proud grin. "Fucked up world, ain't it?"

So Scarecrow was just her _creator_, not a lover. Strangely, at least to him, that relaxed him a bit. But he wondered all the same if her creator actually considered her _more_ than just a creation. After all, no one went to Arkham by _will_. Maybe he had left Crow and her host unwillingly.

"Sooo, doll, what do you, ah, want to... _blow up_?" he questioned with interest, simulating a blast with his hand before placing it to her barely showing stomach and rubbing lightly.

"Oh, right! I was going to see about blowin' up some of Gotham University, which fired Scarecrow because he shot someone in the arm in class," she rattled on, staring ahead and sighing. "He's _so_ misunderstood..."

She shook herself from her reverie, looking to the clown beside her, "Besides that, the students go about like robots, gettin' all this _book_ learnin' only to leave and be stuck in some pointless job for the rest of their lives, most of the time not even bein' somethin' they really want to do. Why _bother_? Isn't there _more_ to life than that?"

"_Plenty_ more to life, doll," he assured her. "You and me? We're ahead of the curve-_uh_. We... know the _tru_-th... and the truth sets you free. Life's all about, _uh_... choicesss. You and me, we, ah... chose _free_-dom from their rules and their game. We make our _own_ rulesss."

"We _do_ think alike, sugar puff," she mused with a contented smile, staring up at the ceiling. "Not even _Scarecrow_ gets the big picture... But you and me, we _know_ better. Like waking up from the Matrix or some shit like that... The first movie was good, but the second one was _shit_."

He chuckled lightly; he'd never heard a woman talk so much without getting on his last nerve.

The fact that he didn't want to kill her just yet was a very happy surprise as he had the urge to kill _most_ people he met.

And her voice was nice, gritty, and _real_. She was so _real_ - more real than anyone else he knew.

And since he'd begun having sexual urges, he thought that it would be fitting for it to be her if he took some kind of _mate_ or something. After all, _she'd_ awoken those needs in him. And imagine the spawn _they_ could produce!

Oh, she was going to be fun, he knew; she was going to be _fun_.

* * *

In the nighttime - 8:18 PM to be exact - on top of a building nearby Gotham University, the Joker's clown-masked men helped Crow's regular-looking, Maroni-lent thugs to set up their equipment - everything needed to broadcast Crow and the Joker's criminal activity _live_.

Crow walked around them, watching what they were doing carefully; she hardly understood how everything worked, and although she was very curious to know just how they got her footage out _live_, she didn't ask them a million questions. With her interference, she knew they might not be as efficient as she _needed_ them to be. She didn't fancy making them upset, anyway.

From a distance, the Joker's gaze followed her form as she skipped about, nosily monitoring the proceedings, obviously curious about the technical facet to the operation.

Her men seemed unperturbed by her actions, but his own became agitated.

As of now, she stood, looking over the shoulder of one of the Joker's men, the clown-masked man fumbling with what he was doing.

Finally, he announced, "Ya makin' me _nervous_, kid."

Crow laughed, but apologized flippantly with a wave of her hand, "Sorry, sorry!"

She moved away from his back, moving in front of him instead, "And call me _Crow_, darlin'. I'm not quite a _kid_ anymore, sugarcube."

The man, still looking at his work with a bunch of wires, muttered, "Ya can't be over _twenty_..."

"How flatterin', but I happen to be twenty-_five_," she said insistently.

He looked up, surprised, "Twenty-five? Ya sure ya didn't fail math class?"

Crow laughed happily, then replied honestly, "Well, I failed the class when they started doin' _multiplications_, true enough, _but_ I managed to learn how to _count_, so no worries _there_, puddin' pop."

He laughed lightly, "No worries. I flunked outta _English_."

"Yes, it _does_ seem to be that way between the genders," Crow mused thoughtfully, adjusting her beak. "Women seem not to comprehend numbers as well as men, and men seem unable to comprehend the complexities of the English language as well as women... Somethin' about the sides of the brain used most between the genders or somethin'... Heard about it on _TV_, I think."

The clown-masked thug grunted in reply, then gave his own thoughts, "Guess that's why so many accountants an' other number crunchers are men an' so many women are secretaries an' such."

"Seems so, shug," she replied, unknowingly relaxing the thug.

"What'd ya used t' do before ya became criminal?" asked the man curiously with a brief look at the brunette.

"Well, _actually_, my other half never acquired a job; we happen to be from a rich family, our mother still supplyin' us with a weekly allowance that's quite hefty," Crow told the thug openly. "But we took enough gymnastics and martial arts classes back in the day that if push came to shove, we could be a gymnast or some kind of sensei perhaps."

"Hopefully," she began to conclude, "we'll never have to get a day job, considerin' that would be _dreadfully_ borin'."

At that moment, the clown-masked man finished his task, looking up only to notice the rest of the thugs standing all around and listening to their conversation.

"So we set?" he asked them all, Crow looking around and realizing everyone was already done with their tasks.

Nods came from all around.

* * *

The Joker now stood beside Crow, flattening down his greasy hair as she adjusted her beak.

They stood before the lens of a camera which a thug would be working for them during their collaboration.

"Ready in," began the clown-masked thug from earlier who was at the main controls, "Five..."

His countdown started, Crow readjusted her zoot suit tapa and was ready for action, the clown looking over a moment to see she was set. She already agreed easily that he'd be doing the introductions.

"--four... three... two," continued the thug.

Crow shone a preemptive smile to the camera.

"--_one_!" the thug called and flipped a switch. "_Action_!"

The Joker waved at the camera, "Hell-_o_, ladies and gentlemen! If you've, _uh_... been followin-_g_ our videosss, you remember Crow."

Crow waved eagerly with a wiggle of her fingers, "Hello _again_, Gotham citizens!"

"Tonigh-_t_," cut in the clown, "will be our first mutual co-llab-o-ration! And we'll, uh, be blowing up various nigh-_t_ classes at Gotham University - a little gif-_t_ I organized for my little cupcak-_e_."

He then gestured a gloved hand to Crow who flashed a smile at the viewers, her hands clasped together over her chest, fingers entwined.

"And doumo arigatou gozaimasu for _that_, my funny bunny," Crow replied sweetly in her gritty-soft tone, then allowed him to carry on.

"Do itashimashite," the clown replied, grinning at her surprised and happy look.

Where the Joker picked up Japanese was _anyone's_ guess.

He then turned back to the camera, "_Sooo_, without further adooo..."

Gesturing to his men to set off the bombs, they complied, explosions rocking various portions of the University that stood in the background.

Crow turned around merrily, watching the fires and panic of those below, countenance pleased as she giggled, acting like a little girl in a candy shop as the Joker watched her reactions, both caught on camera.

Once only smoke was left to the air and ambulances were retrieving victims, he moved closer to her, seemingly forgetting the watchful eye of the camera as he turned her head by her chin so that her stormy gaze met his dark brown eyes.

"Wha-_t_ do you _say_, dollfac-_e_?" he asked, eyes demanding.

"Doumo arigatou gozaimashite," Crow answered in thanks.

"And to _who_-_uh_?" asked the clown, watching her stormy gaze.

She corrected herself, by no means wanting to fight with the sociopath on live TV, "Doumo arigatou gozaimashite, _Mister Joker_."

"Good girl," he praised, patting her cheek, then holding her face tightly and kissing her lips deeply, her black beak pushed upward.

When he pulled away, hand removed from her face, his imprint remained in red on her cheeks, the Joker licking his lips after her taste.

Crow realized the camera's presence, looking back to it, the clown following her gaze and taking over as she readjusted her jostled beak.

"_Sooo_, ladies and gentlemen," began the Clown Prince, stepping forward, "thin-_k_ of this as my firs-_t_ presen-_t_ to the lovely Crow."

"What my buttercup _wants_, she _getsss_," he added darkly, then his features lightened drastically and he motioned for the feed to cut with a finger crossing his throat, his men complying.

* * *

Back at Crow's hideout later that night around 10:30 PM - since the Batman apparently didn't manage to _catch_ them - Crow sat beside the Joker on the couch in the main room watching the GCN station.

A rebroadcast of the night's collaborative effort was then mentioned to be coming on, the Joker turning up the volume with a wide grin.

"_Please be aware,_" the male newscaster with grey eyes and short, brown hair, wearing his grey suit and red tie began gravely, "_that the following images are __**disturbing**__. We at GCN ask that viewers under the age of eighteen turn the channel or leave the room immediately._"

The screen then changed to static a moment before the familiar sight of the rooftop, the Joker, and Crow appeared, Crow to the Joker's right on the screen, both flashing smiles at the audience.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the same time, Jonathan was in the rec. room which was on its last rotation of inmates for the night, the ex-doctor watching the news intently.

He'd watched the videos of Crow, and then the videos between Crow and the Joker, managing to catch all of them in one sitting during a rebroadcast of the entire line.

Now, he was watching the video where they finally came together, he and his Scarecrow not liking it at _all_.

But they had hope when they found Crow's choice was to bomb night classes at Gotham University. She didn't have to say it; they knew it was an act of vengeance for the University's transgression against him.

That much pleased them _both_, but the piece where the Joker abruptly kissed her earned their ire.

Still, they watched the entire thing, realizing the lust in the abysmal eyes of the psychotic clown.

When it ended in static, Scarecrow burst free to the surface, then wildly began attacking anyone in sight out of pure rage.

It took four buff guards to subdue the thin, lanky Scarecrow, one sending him into unconsciousness by means of a needle and sedative provided by a nurse.

In the background, the newscaster reappeared on the screen, still looking gloomily at the audience, "_As you witnessed, the Joker and Crow came through with their intentions of a "__**collaboration**__," as termed by the Clown Prince of Crime._"

"_Does this mean that the two will be joined in future terrorist activities?_" he rhetorically asked the question on everyone's mind. "_We at GCN do not know for sure, but we've had our analysts review the tape, and they've come to some startling conclusions._"

* * *

Back at Crow's hideout, the brunette was still seated on her couch beside the Joker, watching the very same broadcast, oblivious to the Scarecrow's rampage not too far away.

"_We now turn to our top video analyst, Julia Newman, to share her impressions of the murderous duo,_" he said, turning as the camera panned out to reveal a blonde-haired woman, her tresses falling long against her back, the analyst in a pants suit and sitting at the other side of the desk, her legs crossed.

"_This_ should be interesting," muttered Crow, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she watched the woman intently, fingers clasped over her stomach.

"_Ms. Newman?_" asked the newscaster, turning the attention to the pretty analyst.

"_Good evening, Tom,_" she addressed him, then turned to the camera with a serious countenance. "_I, myself, have reviewed the previous tape numerous times._"

She carried on gravely, "_It seems to I and my colleagues that the Joker, a man of anarchy and chaos, has found someone in whom he sees the qualities he himself possesses._"

"_Analysts of the Joker's previous videos had each assumed the clown-faced villain to be __**asexual**__,_" the woman went on to say in that oh-so-professional tone of voice that irked Crow, "_but this footage reveals a startling inconsistency with his normal modus operandi._"

"_For once, it seems the Joker is uniquely interested in something __**other**__ than anarchy and chaos,_" said the blonde insistently. "_In my professional opinion, the Clown Prince of Crime is, in fact, sexually __**attracted**__ to the vivacious character of Crow whose tapes I have __**also**__ reviewed at length._"

She then cleared her throat, looking unsettled towards whatever point she would next make.

"_As for my professional opinion of Crow's reception of the Joker's attraction,_" she began hesitantly, then finally went through with her thoughts, "_I believe she does __**not**__ return the amount of sexual attraction the Joker carries for her._"

Tom finally interrupted, "_You mean to say that Crow __**isn't**__ attracted to the Clown Prince, Ms. Newman?_"

"_In my professional opinion,_" she began in reply, once again asserting herself as a professional (of _what_ exactly, Crow was not sure) before daintily coughing into her fist, then confessing uncomfortably, "_**no**__._"

The Joker glared at the analyst; he hadn't _thought_ about whether or not Crow felt a sexual attraction to him in return, but now his mind questioned it.

He looked over to her in thought while still listening to the program, the brunette still watching the TV screen intently with a curious look in her stormy gaze.

"_Crow seems to exhibit __**no**__ specific desire to,_" Ms. Newman cleared her throat, awkward once more on the sensitive subject, "_consummate their collaboration __**sexually**__, if you will, as a result of an attraction between them._"

"_Could it be, Ms. Newman, that Crow is still attached to the Scarecrow whom now resides in Arkham Asylum?_" questioned Tom, looking interested to hear her reply, but continuing his thoughts hurriedly. "_**Or**__ could it be said that she has a sexual attraction to the __**Scarecrow**__ rather than the Clown Prince of Crime?_"

The Joker looked back to the screen with eyebrows raised, eager to hear the woman answer the prompt from the newscaster.

"_I would say, Tom, that she does not exhibit __**true**__ sexual desire for __**either**__ supervillain,_" Ms. Newman replied firmly, very confident of her conclusions. "_Her attachment to the Scarecrow seems purely out of respect for his character._"

"_But while she does not __**exhibit**__ a **sexual desire** for either, my colleagues and I agree that Crow is likely a nymphomaniac personality with a need to explore sexual relations with various men which may __**include**__ the Scarecrow and the Joker,_" the blonde asserted with a know-it-all look on her little face.

How the little blonde woman could assess all this from a few video tapes, Crow did not know, but she seemed ever so confident in her beliefs.

Tom looked thoughtful during his close-up before inquiring, "_But if she doesn't exhibit sexual attraction to these men, why would she pursue intercourse with __**either**__?_"

"_The nymphomaniac does not __**need**__ a true sexual attraction toward their partners,_" the blonde replied matter-of-factly, fingers clasped together as her hands rested against her knee.

"_I'm afraid that's all the time we __**have**__, Ms. Newman,_" apologized the newscaster, turning his seat back toward the camera. "_Remember to stay with GCN for all Joker and Crow-related news._"

And thus, the channel cut to commercials after the awkward conversation.

"_Well_," Crow began awkwardly, "_that_ was uncomfortable..."


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** The timeline for TDK? Well, I couldn't find it _anywhere_. And do you expect me to be able to tell the exact timeline from the movie? Well, I _can't_. So I went my own way, and dragged out spaces between events however I saw fit.

I can't just repeatedly watch the movie as a whole to make everything as exact as possible because even _I_ don't have that kind of time.

Anyway, I decided to stretch out the time (presumably, since I _think_ the timeline was shorter) for relationship development.

And, by the way, the mob boss conference scene may not be exactly the same as in the movie. I'm using a script version and my copy of TDK for the dialogue, but things might not always be exact for whatever reasons. (I bought the movie specifically for fanfiction uses as streaming video of the movie online is finicky about stopping and starting too much, eventually making the audio and video move out of sync. Meaning, I could easily watch the full thing online, but pausing a bunch made me buy the video.)

Funny story about buying the video, skip to where it says THE END if you don't want to hear my lame ass story:

You know how there's regular copy of TDK and one with a two disc special? Well, little Leanne (that's my name; don't wear it out) looked at both covers side by side and said. "Ooooh, I like the cover with the Joker."

I didn't _realize_ that the one with the Joker was more expensive (because it was the two disc special). I have a bad, dumb habit of never paying enough attention. So I bought the one with the Joker on the cover.

My mom checks the receipt after we buy it and goes, "Why was that (approximately) twenty-four dollars?"

I'm all dumb like, "I dunno."

Then I look at it real close and see the writing on the top of the case that says it's the two disc special and I go, "Ruh-roh!"

So, essentially, the "prettiness" of the Joker made me spend more money than I was intending. ;P

THE END

What else? What else? Oh, yeah.

Updates will be a little slower from now on. I'm finally caught up to where I left off in my writing. (Plus, I started working on another fic since an idea kept bothering me day in and day out.)

You see, the method I use to write is by doing everything I really want to do first, then throwing it together and putting in the more tedious, but necessary parts. (I know that's a bad way to do it, but it's the only way that works for me.) So I've left off at a gap between this chapter and one that will appear down the line. I'm really bad about that.

What else?

And about the way I make the Joker talk. I've read various versions or "takes" on how the Joker speaks from various media... I decided to combine a few different ways I've read in a manner of my own. It's really not the way he talks in TDK.

I can't just regurgitate the _exact_ same thing from the movie where his voice is concerned. That would be awfully _boring_. I like his voice with a certain style to it, and I needed to do it my own way.

I think I'm doing okay with it, but if you don't agree, feel free to tell me and maybe suggest what I should do differently. (Don't just tell me "ur doin it rong!" and then proceed upon leaving me in the dark. That'd be awful rude, and I would thus ignore you.)

(I could make a really ADHD story about writing this fic and the first just by adding up all my A/Ns. ...Gawsh. I've _got_ to try to keep my A/Ns to a minimum somehow.)

And now that you know all of that, enjoy the chapter (which is longer than normal, three quarters of it due to the length of my A/N :gonk:)!

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Three - Mob Meeting**

* * *

After that night and the embarrassing and ridiculous program on the sex lives of and between Gotham's Most Wanted (_seriously_, was that really news-worthy?), things for Crow and her Chelsie changed slightly.

The clown did the exact _opposite_ of what Chelsie/Crow had surmised he would do because of the program. Instead of dumping them flat and going back to his own business, he became clingy in a non-dependent way whenever he was around.

Crow gladly went to bed with him whenever he felt like it, too, the alter ego a little wary of what he'd actually do to her if she refused. But why should she _refuse_? It wasn't like he was a novice at fornication; he'd obviously had _plenty_ of experience. So Crow broke her "no multiple repeat rides" rule, which was actually more of a _guideline_ anyway.

As for the Clown Prince, he also fished for clues, as Crow explained to the ever naive and truly somewhat _dumb_ Chelsie, on whether or not Crow liked him or felt a sexual attraction to him.

Crow had explained to her host that even the _Joker_ must not feel "satisfied by sex where the attraction isn't mutual," as Crow had said it. (It was only logical, so apparently the clown _did_ have some logical thoughts and emotions rattling around in his brilliantly insane and insanely brilliant brain.)

Of course, Crow worked her magic, always assuring him that she enjoyed his company and found him to be attractive. It was the truth besides, though Chelsie never wanted to interact with him, too skittish around his moody personality. And luckily, the Joker didn't seem that interested in her as of yet.

Chelsie herself was resigned to the fact that she wasn't _fun_ like Crow.

As for how things went between the black bird and the clown, Crow received her fair share of bruises and cuts. The cuts she savored masochistically, but the bruises were not quite as pleasant and were left as marks of punishment when she did something that displeased him.

It wasn't as if Crow thought the Joker would be gentle like _Scarecrow_ strangely tried to be, though. The clown didn't think he was in love like the _latter _seemed to fervently believe for whatever insane reasons he had concocted.

However, the bruises didn't faze her much; she still acted careless around the Joker, even if it meant she might get hit. She was a little bit like him in that she sort of just _did_ things most of the time.

But it wasn't as if she didn't put up a fight; when it came to hurting him in return, she had no regrets because she certainly didn't love him. She could land a few good hits and scratch him up with her nails, and still did so even when he madly laughed at the pain.

While he _laughed_ at his pain, Crow's pain just fueled her anger that was normally bottled up inside.

As for the fighting, it never lasted long as the clown would eventually just become aroused and instigate another sexual encounter.

The routine was simple enough for all of them, and it lasted relatively unchanged for a few months.

* * *

The Joker sat on his side of Chelsie and Crow's bed, spending the night, as was a frequent habit, his back propped up against the pillows that were against the wall at the head of the large bed.

He watched her sleep peacefully - an act people were rarely _brave_ enough to commit in his presence, no less - hand toying with a knife as he usually seemed to do while thinking.

Instead of forcing Chelsie/Crow to his hideout as initially "planned," the clown came around her nicer warehouse hideout whenever he had free time to spend, Crow carrying on with her terrorist actions in the meantime. (At times, they collaborated, Crow picking a place to blow up and the clown setting it up, calling it a _gift_ to her.)

He had decided to let her get used to him before he forced her back to his hideout where he decided he'd keep her locked up until she thoroughly understood her predicament and obeyed him by staying inside. At that point, he reasoned he could let her roam freely around the old plant he loosely called home.

And if she misbehaved? Well, he'd lock her back up again.

It wasn't really a plan, _per se_, but a vague set of ideas floating in his head.

Maybe if she couldn't be obedient, he reasoned, he would punish her; she needed to be a good girl in regards to obeying him because bad girls got punished.

Then he frowned to himself, thinking about some off-handed remark she'd made earlier and all the pesky emotions that had come with it.

They'd gotten into another scuffle where no one usually won or lost, and such usually ended with sex, but that time had proven different. She didn't want to go through with the sex, and he couldn't bring himself to force her to do what he wanted, even though he was completely _capable_ of doing so.

So he ended up brooding away on the old sofa, glowering at the TV.

She had been nearby, noticing his dark mood. _Everyone_, meaning their various _henchmen_, had noticed his dark mood, actually.

"Why are you broodin'?" she had asked, rolling her eyes. "Not like we _love_ each other, funny bunny."

She had walked away, the comment only making him more agitated.

At the time, he had pondered why it got to him. It wasn't as if he was in love with her, but he felt aggravated by the fact that he couldn't seem to make her feel _something_ for him. Most fucked up women - and he had known quite a _few_ - would fall for his twisted charm, the Joker twisting their minds so that they had some kind of affection for him before getting rid of them.

Crow, however, would not be broken down; she had no qualms with hurting him right back when he got rough, and although he liked her spunk, he realized he wanted her adoration and worship.

But then again, she wouldn't be nearly as _fun_ if she were broken in.

And so he pondered instead why he actually needed her to like him and feel attracted to him. He didn't need her to feel _anything_ to take what he wanted from her, yet he wanted her to feel that way. It was quite the conundrum.

Why exactly did he _have_ these frustrating feelings?

They were actually very dangerous and were leading him to remember about how he'd once felt in his past regarding one of the few things he could factually remember.

Most of his past was foggy in his mind, made up of multiple choice to where he knew some of the memories might not be true. Other things he made up on his own.

But there were _three_ points of his past he knew to be true.

1 -- His real name was Jack Napier. Of that he could be certain.

2 -- At some point in his life, he had a pregnant wife named Jeannie whom he dearly loved and whom was murdered by men he had then agreed to help in some way in regards to a matter of money.

3 -- He knew the true origin of his Glasgow smile. His Chelsea grin had come from those same men who unfortunately noticed he was very _sad_ about his wife's murder, Jack never smiling afterward, the men cutting a permanent smile on his face.

He didn't know anything else for certain, never knowing when exactly he became what he was.

But even if he could regain those memories of the truth of his past, he didn't believe he would _want_ to.

Why _should_ he? What little he knew was horrible.

He didn't regret what he had become _now_, though.

Now, sitting in her bed and watching Chelsie/Crow's pale, moonlit face, he wondered what kind of past Crow and her host had idly. Chelsie had to have been somewhat unstable to begin with for a new personality to be borne in her. He found trauma was a generous trigger, but the individual had to be a loaded gun before they could fire off into some extent of insanity.

He smiled to himself a minute; he should really write this kind of stuff down.

The Joker then slunk down into the bed after pocketing his knife, facing Chelsie/Crow.

He reached up, gloved hand tracing her jawline gently as not to wake her.

The feeling that stirred within him now reminded him _far_ too much of the emotions that played in his memories of Jeannie, the Joker retracting his hand and turning onto his back, staring up at the ceiling before closing his dark eyes.

There were remnants, he realized, of Jack Napier lingering in his now twisted soul. And such was _not_ a good thing, especially if Chelsie/Crow was going to remind him of his past with Jeannie, or at least the part of it where he had felt those now useless feelings.

But on the other hand, he didn't want to stop seeing her; she was just too much _fun_ to let go of just yet, he reasoned. He liked fighting with her; she was very feisty, and he really did like that quality. And not to mention the sex that followed.

In the meanwhile, he never realized that a little, pesky piece of him was reverting into his old self, interestingly splitting off from his Joker persona.

Had he known, he might have been able to stop it before the point of no return.

* * *

Chelsie woke up slowly the next morning with the creepy feeling of being watched, and when her eyes opened only to abruptly see the Joker's face inches from hers, she let out a yelp of surprise.

He laughed in return, moving back and greeting her, "Mornin-_g_, sunshine."

The brunette sighed heavily, heart pace slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

"Morning," she answered lamely, scrambling up to a sit and combing her fingers through her wild and tangled hair.

"We have a little, uh... _errand_ to do today, little _Chel_-_sie_," the clown mentioned, hand playing with a knife as he watched her.

She rubbed the thick sleep from her eyes, "We _do_?"

"We nee-_d_ to have a little _tal-__**k**_ with a few... mob bossesss," he answered directly instead of his normally vague answers.

* * *

After Chelsie had showered and dressed, pocketing Crow's beak, she basically made breakfast for the entirety of henchmen in the warehouse, the Joker and herself. (While Jonathan/Scarecrow was gone, her money had bought five refrigerators which she had stocked herself, you see.)

Not that her cooking was _gourmet_, but the thugs seemed to honestly enjoy it regardless. Apparently, they understood that beggars must not be choosers, especially in the presence of the Joker.

After mixed henchmen of the Joker and Crow were finished along with their bosses, the clown organized a small group as back-up, everyone piling in the dark van outside, Chelsie pulled on the arm by the clown until she sat beside him.

Once settled in the van, Chelsie blinked and made way for Crow, the latter of which snapped on her beak, adjusting it just so during the long, bumpy ride.

Their little visit would be to see mob bosses Salvatore Maroni, the Chechen and Gambol, all of which were having a meeting with other underworld gangsters, as the Clown Prince had explained to Chelsie over breakfast.

He told her they had to discuss both the annoying Batman and Harvey Dent who had been busting up the mobsters' operations effectively as of late.

As for Crow - who reviewed the information from Chelsie as she hadn't been _listening_ at the time - she realized that if the mobsters were having to meet during the day, then _Batty-kins_ must _really_ be disturbing their usual modus operandi.

The Joker then spoke up in her direction, catching her attention, "Stay close and silen-_t_ unless spoken to."

"Got it, dollfac-_e_?" he questioned, making sure she understood her place.

She scowled, but nodded.

* * *

'_Typical __**henchgirl**__ role,_' complained Crow to her host, inwardly rolling her eyes.

'_He seemed very __**serious**__, though,_' Chelsie mentioned in return. '_And at least his orders are meant to look out for our best interest._'

Crow couldn't argue with _that_ much; it was almost as if he _cared_ about her well-being, at least at the hands of the mobsters. She supposed he couldn't let someone _else_ kill off one of his toys.

* * *

Once they arrived at their destination, only the Joker and Crow got out of the vehicle, the former ordering both his _and_ Crow's men to stay in the van and wait.

Thankfully, Crow's men were _used_ to taking his orders as she expressed to them that he was just as much their boss as she herself was. And since her henchmen _liked_ her well enough, they took her instructions, which was coincidentally in their best interest.

The Joker then latched a gloved hand around Crow's wrist, leading her into what appeared to be part of a hotel or something of the sort.

They went through various portions of the building until they were in earshot of the conference taking place, both listening to the proceedings quietly.

* * *

"_As you're all aware, one of our deposits was stolen,_" said a male voice, though it seemed slightly distorted so that it apparently was either coming from a machine or a television set, as Crow deciphered. "_A relatively small amount... 68 million._"

"Who's _stupid_ enough steal from us?" questioned the Chechen incredulously.

Crow then heard the unmistakable voice of Sal Maroni, "Two-bit whack-job; wears a cheap purple suit and make-up. He's not the problem; he's a nobody."

The brunette felt the pressure of the Joker's hand on her wrist tighten, and she looked up to his face from her place a step behind him. He didn't look appreciative of Maroni's assessment of him.

"The problem is... our money being tracked by the cops," Maroni then changed the subject, Crow able to hear the direction of his voice change slightly as she looked back to the double doors where the voices seemed to be coming from.

"_Thanks to Mr. Maroni's well-placed sources,_" began the voice of the man over the television set, as Crow finally assumed it to be, "_we know that police have indeed identified our __**banks**__ using marked bills... and are planning to seize your funds __**today**_. _And since the __**enthusiastic**__ new D.A. has put __**all**__ my competitors out of business, __**I'm**__ your only option._"

* * *

'_Hey, Crow,_' Chelsie interrupted her counterpart's intense concentration.

'_**What**__?_' snapped Crow, annoyed.

'_Have you noticed that the clown's hand is now holding ours?_'

Crow looked down to the purple-gloved hand, finding her to be right.

'_**That's**__ a first,_' admitted Crow, '_but I wanna hear the mobsters._'

* * *

The beaked villainess returned her attention to the metal doors.

"So what are you proposing?" asked Maroni to 'Mr. Tellie', as Crow now dubbed the latter.

The other man answered simply, "_Moving all deposits to one secure location. Not a bank._"

"_Where_, then?" another mobster asked, Crow likening his voice to a baritone.

He sounded kind of like a _tuba_, actually, and she surmised he must be Gambol, the large black man.

"_**No one**__ can know but me,_" came 'Mr. Tellie's' sharp reply. "_If the police were to gain leverage over __**one**__ of you... __**everyone's**__ money would be at stake._"

The Chechen questioned, "What stop them getting to you?"

"_I go to Hong Kong, far from Dent's jurisdiction,_" the television answered. "_And the Chinese will not extradite one of their own._"

"How soon can you move the money?" one mobster questioned, Crow unable to recognize who it was.

"_I already __**have**__,_" replied the television matter-of-factly. "_For __**obvious**__ reasons, I couldn't wait for your permission._"

He added reassuringly, "_Rest assured, your money.. __**is**..__ safe._"

* * *

Walking them over to the door and leading them into the room, the Joker began laughing aloud in a forced manner, dragging Crow along behind him.

All the mobsters turned their gaze to the clown beside a beaked brunette, the latter of which gazed back at them with a curious countenance in a bird-like manner.

"I thought _I_ told bad jokesss," said the Joker finally, now near the long table.

Crow looked around the conference table at that moment, eyes turning to the television which held the image of a little Chinese man.

The mobsters ignored the small woman, their gazes intently on the clown.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off," came Gambol's tuba voice, filling the room with its rich timbre.

Crow's attention turned quickly to the big black man, head slightly cocked to the side.

The Joker released her hand at last, leaving her in her spot and moving to the end of their conference table as he retrieved a pencil.

"How about a magic tric-_k_?" he asked, slamming the pencil into the table and leaving it upright, waving one hand over it as he leaned nearby it. "I'm gonna _mak-__**e**_ this pencil... _disappear_."

Attention returning to the black man, Crow watched him give a nod to "his boy," a large bodyguard who advanced towards the clown. She then watched the Joker sidestep, grip the bodyguard's head and slam it, face down, upon the table.

The body quickly went limp, sliding off the table to the floor beneath, the pencil gone with it.

"Tada!" called the clown, pulling up a seat nearby as he waved his hands where the pencil had once been. "It's... Ah, it's _gone_."

Crow smirked to herself, quite impressed with the little trick as the Joker grinned in Gambol's direction.

"Oh. And by the way, the suit - it wasn't cheap-_uh_," the Joker announced, straightening his suit jacket. "You oughta know; _you_ bought it."

* * *

'_Oh, __**snap**__!_' Crow cackled in her head, thoroughly amused. '_That was pretty good, huh, sweetheart?_'

'_The trick was pretty creepy, but the __**comment**__ was undeniably humorous,_' assessed Crow's host critically.

* * *

Gambol stood up, furious, but the Chechen stopped him from going at the clown's throat.

"Sit," the Chechen ordered. "I wanna hear proposition."

The Joker pointed at the Chechen briefly, then looked to Gambol as if to say "you heard the man."

"Let's wind the clocks back a _year_," began the war-painted clown, "These copsss and lawyers wouldn't _dar-__**e**_ cross _any_ of you."

"I... I mean," he muttered, looking around the table, "what happened? Did your... Did your _balls_ drop off? _Hm_?"

"You see, a _guy_ like _me_--" the clown went on, but was interrupted rudely.

"A _freak_," Gambol reminded everyone, laughs coming from around the table full of mafia men.

Crow rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the Joker who attempted to ignore the laughter.

"A guy like me..." trailed the clown before he got down to the point of the matter abruptly. "Look. Listen. ...I know why you choose to have your little--"

He cleared his throat into a gloved fist, "--group therap-_y_ sessions in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at nigh-_t_. ...The Batman. See, Batman has shown Gotham your true colorsss, unfortunately."

"Dent," he added with a wild gesture of his hand, "he's just the beginning."

* * *

'_Hey, Crow,_' Chelsie interrupted once more, quickly moving on to her point. '_Have you noticed how he talks a little more like a __**normal**__ person when he gets serious? He does less emphasis on the last letter of words ending in 't' and 'd' and the occasional 'y' and 'e', and he doesn't hold out the last 's' on words as much._'

'_Interestin' __**notes**__, sweetheart, but Crow's tryin' to hear the conversation, __**okay**__?_' Crow returned hurriedly.

* * *

The Joker then gestured to the TV and the little Chinese man trapped inside it, "A-And as for, uh... the... television's so-called _plan_-_uh_, Batman has no jurisdiction."

"He'll find him and make him squeal," he assured the mobsters, clenching his fists in emphasis.

"I know the squealers when I see them, and..." trailed the Clown Prince, pointing directly at the little Chinese man, said man soon cutting the video feed.

"What you propose?" inquired the Chechen, Crow watching him.

For some reason, Crow really liked that guy's voice and way of speaking, something rather animal about it and sending a chill up her spine to which she shivered slightly with delight.

She then looked back to the Joker who answered, "It's simple. We, uh, _kill_ the Batman."

Laughter - _thick_ laughter - erupted from the mobsters.

Even _Crow_ managed to look at the clown incredulously; she knew the Bat was an obsession of his, so was he really suggesting they _kill_ Batman, or did he just have some hidden motive she had yet to be informed of and could not yet see?

"If it's so simple," began Maroni, calming down from the good laugh the clown had supplied him, "why haven't _you_ done it already?"

"If you're goo-_d_ at something, never do it for free," the Joker replied.

"How much you want?" asked the Chechen, humoring him.

The Joker replied, direct and to-the-point, "Uh... _Half_."

Once again, the mobsters started laughing.

One them muttered, "You're crazy."

"I'm not," the Joker insisted. "No, I'm no-_t_."

"If we don't deal with this _now_," he began, looking around the large table, "soon little, uh... _Gambol_--"

He looked at Gambol questioningly to confirm the name, and went on, "--here won't be able to get a _nickel_ for his grandma--"

The black man slammed the table top abruptly, Chelsie jumping like a skittish bird.

"Enough from the clown," Gambol interrupted, suddenly very somber as he got up from his seat once more, moving toward the greasy-haired man that vexed him so.

In reply, the Joker stood and casually opened his coat to reveal an array of explosives wired to his chest, purple strings hooked to a ring around his thumb, Gambol stopping his advance immediately.

"Ah, ta-ta-ta-ta... Let's not _blow_... this out of proportion," the clown practically teased, briefly looking to Crow with a wink.

She merely scowled.

* * *

'_**Great**__; he dragged us along only to threaten the fuckin' __**mob**__ with __**explosives**__,_' an annoyed Crow complained to her Chelsie.

* * *

Gambol glared at the Joker, and if looks could kill, Crow knew the clown wouldn't need to pull the string to wind up dead.

"You think you can steal from us and just _walk away_?" the black man asked in that baritone voice.

"Yeah," replied the Joker simply without hesitation, causing Crow to grin.

* * *

'_**Damn**, he's ballsy,_' Crow said, cackling in their mind.

'_I thought you were **mad** at him,_' pointed out Chelsie.

Crow inwardly grinned, '_I can't stay mad after he just did some major ownage with a **single word**._'

* * *

"I'm putting the _word_ out: five hundred for this clown _dead_," announced Gambol. "A _million_ alive, so I can teach him some _manners_ first."

The Joker pointed at the others with the hand attached to the string on the explosives, "Alright... So, listen."

As he spoke, he dug into a pocket, "Why don't _you_ give me a _call_ when you want to start taking this a _liiittle_ more _serious_-ly."

"Here's.. my.. card," the clown said, holding it up before placing it onto the table.

He then backed up toward different double doors to the side, his purple-gloved fingers still ready to pull the string to the explosives at any moment as he generously demonstrated.

Nodding his head for Crow to follow, he shoved one metal door open with his foot, making a loud bang before he hurried out.

* * *

Crow sighed, then slowly looked to the mob men who each came to look at her one by one, all very wary of her, their gazes intense.

Coughing into a fist, she then announced with forced calm in her scratchy-soft voice, "Just so you _know_, fellas, I am in _no_ way a part of the clown's heist of your money."

"And Maroni?" she asked, giving a saccharine smile. "You seem to have forgotten that you lent Scarecrow, who is now in _Arkham_, some of your men, buttercup..."

Laughing nervously, she added, "I, uh... I _have_ them, and I'll be takin' care of them until my Scarecrow comes back."

"And you are the reason I'm still getting profits from the crazy doctor's toxins?" asked Maroni, an eyebrow quirked with his countenance mostly curious, proving he didn't think the small girl a threat.

She nodded in the affirmative, "As long as I have your men - even though I no longer take ingredients from you as I've found a better _supplier_ - you'll get your payments as promised."

The Chechen heard her mention Scarecrow, asking, "You run toxin business, _Miss_--?"

"Crow," she supplied her name with an exaggerated bow, slowly rising from it. "Crow is the name, and _yes_, I am running Scarecrow's li'l business now, puddin' pop."

"My customers. Repeat business," he complained to her, scowling. "Is way to remove side-effects?"

"_Well_," she said thoughtfully, stroking the underside of her beak. "Perhaps I can have my _associates_ find a way to make a version that won't have such horrific side-effects, but I can't _promise_ anythin', darlin', as _Scarecrow_ is the most knowledgeable about the compound."

The Chechen smiled a bit; she was _much_ more agreeable than the cocky Scarecrow and definitely not as crazy-minded as the Clown Prince.

"When is good time in schedule to discuss?" questioned the mobster.

"Hm, well, I believe a meeting _would_ be _best_, but seeing as your last attempt at night was rudely interrupted by the _Bat_, I suggest we meet some time tomorrow durin' daylight hours, perhaps at the same parkin' lot since I have the address back at my base of operations," Crow offered at length with a small smile. "Would that be a suitable arrangement for _you_, Mr. Chechen?"

He smiled with a nod, "Is fine. We meet on underground floor at noon."

"Sounds good," agreed the brunette enthusiastically.

Thoughtfully, she then added, looking to Sally, "And, uh, _Maroni_? ...If your men all end up _dead_ at some point in the unforeseeable future, don't expect anymore payments."

And with that bold statement uttered, she threw her hands in the air, running out the door she'd come in with the Joker, bellowing a cry of, "_Ciao_, fellas!"

* * *

From behind, Crow heard amused laughter fill the hall until she was out of earshot.

Good; they were _amused_ and not _pissed_ by her actions. That was _always_ a good sign.

Maybe the Clown Prince of _Psychos_ was brave enough to spit in the face of the mob, but she was no where _near_ powerful enough to make those kinds of enemies as of yet.

And there was no relying on the _clown_ to keep her safe; he was much too unpredictable to garner her trust and too uncaring to warrant her reliance.

Crow, unlike the ever clueless and apathetic to the point of being detrimental _Chelsie_, had a good head on her shoulders and used it wisely when it really mattered.

* * *

With her bit of business done, Crow ran around the building, carefully retracing the path the Joker had led her down earlier and finding her way out.

Thankfully, the van was still waiting for her and she climbed in before two of her men closed the doors and the driver took off.

"What, uh... What did you _do_?" the Joker questioned, sitting beside her.

She turned her gaze to him, noticing he didn't look too happy that she had sort of disobeyed him.

"I had to talk to Maroni about his men, and the Chechen inquired about a compound without horrific side-effects on his customers," Crow answered simply.

One of her men who heard her asked with an obvious look of discontent, "Are we goin' back t' _Maroni_, Boss?"

"No, no," Crow assured him, waving her hand dismissively. "As long as Maroni is gettin' a cut from the toxin profits, you're all _mine_. And I intend to keep you all under my wing - pun _quite_ intended - until my _Scarecrow_ finally decides to break out of Arkham."

"_Him_ again?" asked the same man freely, scowling at the prospect of being the crazy ex-doctor's goon again seeing as being _Crow's_ thug was much more fun and less likely to end with your death.

"Well, the toxin business is really _his_ venture, babycakes," the brunette reasoned with a shrug. "I'm just babysittin' his work."

"I _owe_ him that much," added the young woman with a sigh.

It seemed Crow was not without some kind of a twisted, albeit _present_ and accounted for heart, which was _troubling_ to the stormy-eyed woman.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** Someone wanted to see more Jonathan/Scarecrow, so I worked it into this chapter.

However, I couldn't work in Jonathan/ScarecrowxChelsie/Crow interaction just yet according with where I'm going with the story. For more interaction between them, you'll have to wait for the third installment of the series. Or maybe the very end of this fic. I'm not sure about the placement of each piece yet as most of this is still stuck in my brain like a discarded toothpick.

Second thing I need to mention is that I'd like to credit MustLoveGreg with the term the Arkham inmate (once a henchman of Crow) named Jimmy uses in regards to Crow. He calls her "pretty, bitty bird girl." So, thank you, MustLoveGreg, for the cute term! I thought I'd throw it in as a little tribute to you for following the series so closely and giving so many reviews.

Third, this chapter's gonna rehash previous events from Jonathan and Scarecrow's points of view. They're gonna talk about how they got into the mess of being in love with Chelsie and Crow, and it shows from their points of view why they were so out of character at the time.

This chapter also explains why Chelsie seems like a dumbass, and yet Crane thinks she isn't. (And he's probably the only one who thinks that, possibly because he just loves her too much. _Awww_. Hidden fluff. I love it.)

It's also going to attempt to explain why Scarecrow is so insistently in love with her.

Lastly, someone said they wanted the series to end with Jonathan/Scarecrow and Chelsie/Crow together.

I've decided, in order to please everyone who either wants it to end up that way or have her with the Joker (and to please myself, mostly, because I'm so damned indecisive), that I'd write two endings so you can choose which pairing you like. (I'm guessing I'll label them as Epilogue Scarecrow version and Epilogue Joker Version respectively, and I'll post them both one after the other for your convenience.)

Of course, if that happens, you know there won't be a way to write about Crow after those two endings. It'll be the _official_ end of the series. (By that time, I believe I'll want to move on to other things.)

So, I believe that's what I'm gonna do, just so ya know.

Also, I apologize that this chapter came out kind of short. I felt it was appropriate to leave off where I did.

With that out of the way, onward to the chapter! Tally-ho!

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Four - How Point A Met Point B**

* * *

Ever since Scarecrow's little temper tantrum in the rec. room, news on Chelsie/Crow was scarce for the duo to find because the result of Scarecrow's fit was a loss of rec. room privileges. His psychiatrist had been informed of what set Jonathan's alter ego off, Dr. Grayson issuing that letting them near the TV was not a good idea.

Needless to say, Scarecrow had been livid. And since Jonathan was _just_ as perturbed, they decided to give the doctor his comeuppance.

With mere words, Jonathan manipulated Grayson who took off out of Arkham and, as they were informed days afterward, was later found dead in his home with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.

Everyone in Arkham, be it her patients with enough of a mind left to form coherent thoughts or her various staff members, concluded, if only among themselves, that that Crane had somehow driven Grayson to the unthinkable act. However, no one could _prove_ anything, considering his sessions with Grayson had not been monitored.

Now, although they weren't allowed into the rec. room again, Jonathan/Scarecrow was still given the opportunity to mix with other patients in the cafeteria and in the courtyard.

On one day in the courtyard, he managed to get information that there was a new patient behind Arkham's walls. The man had been said to have worked for Crow, this taking the mutual interest of Jonathan and Scarecrow.

They managed to locate the ex-thug in the courtyard to their luck and went up to the brown-eyed, grey-haired man who was laden with more muscle than humanly required, bringing them to where there now were.

* * *

Jimmy Hallows looked up, lit cigarette drooping from his lips as he saw "Crazy Crane" headed his way.

Even as burly and fit as he was, he held well-deserved fear in regards to the ex-doctor.

He had heard from other inmates that Crane was Grayson's last appointment before the Arkham doc took off in the middle of the work day and was later found dead at home by suicide. Anyone with half a brain would be assured that whatever Crane had said in that last appointment must've driven Grayson over the edge.

Using words alone to make a guy off himself was some kind of deadly talent that poor Jimmy really didn't want to deal with, but how could he cower in front of the lanky, younger man?

Instead of turning into a frightened little ball, he took a long drag and steeled himself for the coming encounter.

* * *

Two feet from where the ex-thug named Jimmy was standing behind the courtyard bleachers that lie near the basketball court, Jonathan stopped.

Before he could make the point of his presence known, Jimmy spoke up.

"Ya lookin' f' news on ya li'l black bird, _eh_?" he questioned in a thick accent, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and tapping the ashes to the ground.

"'Ow 'bout we do a li'l _trade-off_, doc?" Jimmy suggested boldly with a wry smile, deciding not to give in to his fears - something of which he knew Crane would only be sickly satisfied by. "Ya on dat "good be'avior" list o' da week, so ya get me a pack o' cigarettes an' I'll give ya some inf'mation on ya pretty, bitty bird girl."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed, voice precise and crisp just like those of the doctors in Arkham, but also icy cold as he replied, "Mr. Hallows, I have neither the _time_ nor _patience_ for fetching you your cancer sticks. I suggest you give me the information I want _now_, or I will leave you with the advisement of keeping one eye open as you sleep."

Mr. Hallows bristled noticeably, not having expected to be threatened so quickly; apparently, to the ex-doctor, Crow was _serious business_.

The ex-thug returned the cancer stick to his mouth, "Fine, fine... Ya li'l birdy is playin' a dangerous game wit da clown."

"_Every_.. _single_.. _day_," he drawled out, pulling it from his lips and waving around the smoking cigarette, "those two kept on rockin' da _casbah_, _if ya know what I mean_."

To Crane's discomforted look, Jimmy gave a satisfied smirk.

After another drag, he looked away, "While da clown's out on business or sleepin' at 'is own place f' once, she's either bonkin' the thugs or bidin' 'er time... She's waitin' on ya t' _bust_ outta Arkham an' take back ya li'l toxin business..."

"An', uh... I 'ear word she wants t' leave ya once ya get back," added the ex-thug, eyes lazily trailing back to Crane. "Aft' she's done wit da clown, she wants t' fly solo."

Jonathan took in all of the information, then questioned, "And what does Crow plan to do while 'solo'?"

Jimmy laughed, "Ya don't _get it_, do ya? ...She's already figured _eeeeverythin_' out."

The ex-doctor quirked a brow, adjusting his glasses with impatience, "What do you mean?"

Hallows looked off, countenance amused, "Da li'l black bird has an interest in da big, bad Bat. But she ain't gonna play _games_ when it comes t' findin' out 'is secret identity, doc; she knows da only way t' cripple da Bat is t' find out 'is real identity an' 'old it over 'is 'ead."

With an incredulous look, Crane inquired, "You speak as though you believe she has a chance at finding out his daytime persona, Mr. Hallows."

Jimmy turned his brown eyes to the ex-doctor and offered a small shrug before giving his opinion on the matter, "She's got more o' a chance than da clown 'cause she knows how t' blend in, an' she's got more o' a chance than ya seein' as everybody knows who ya are."

"Ya follow da bird an' she might jus' figure out who da Bat is, doc," advised the ex-thug with a knowing look in his eyes. "Dat is, unless she figures it out too fast an' lets da clown have da name..."

"She's no fool; she gets da big picture," he assured, hand waving at the last words. "If she gives over da name t' da clown, she'll be breakin' Gotham's soul an' sellin' it t' da devil... _Dat's_ an outcome she wouldn't mind _'avin'_."

"I highly doubt that _Crow_, however intelligent she may be, will be capable of deducing a name for the caped crusader where others have surely tried and _failed_, Mr. Hallows," Jonathan replied with a small scowl, unable to find the same faith in Crow.

Jimmy shrugged once more, looking away, "Nobody believes me, but she's smarter than she lets on... Other people t'ink it's an impossible task, but Crow doesn't _stop_ at impossible."

"Her first step," the grey-haired man added, "is t' meet da Bat."

"I believe I've heard everything I need to _know_, Mr. Hallows," said Jonathan, readjusting his frames on his nose before inclining his head slightly as a gesture of departure.

* * *

The ex-doctor turned around and took off to the other side of the courtyard.

'_The man had a __**point**__, Doc; Crow's uniquely intelligent when it comes to this sort of endeavor,_' Scarecrow asserted as they walked away.

'_And how do you know that, Scarecrow?_'

Scarecrow grinned inwardly, '_Crow's undoubtedly the half of Chelsie who liked guessing games; she always wanted to play twenty questions when she was bored... And, let's __**face**__ it, Crow's the smarter half._'

'_Chelsie __**is**__ intelligent,_' insisted the ex-doctor resolutely. '_She merely makes uniquely bad decisions out of a grandiose sense of __**apathy**__. In example, she failed to call the police when she found us as a normal woman would do without hesitation because she has no long-term sense of self-preservation._'

'_She's also the only person whose apathetic nature would allow her to hold the unique view that our supposed insanity was "**none of her business**." And she's the only one who would continue to walk through a fog that she comprehends as giving her hallucinations,_' he assessed her carefully as only a psychiatrist would be wont to do. '_The lack of self-preservation save in instances of momentary instinct is clearly evident and gives her the __**false**__ appearance of being unintelligent._'

Scarecrow was skeptical as their shared body took a seat at a bench in their pathway.

'_Give me an instance in which she's proven herself intelligent,_' challenged the alter ego.

'_Well, one case in point, it was undoubtedly __**Chelsie's**__ half of the persona when she reasoned that life beside a criminal might not be well-suited to her,_' Jonathan gave one example, then followed up with another. '_Also, it had to have been Chelsie who saw through my flattery when I attempted to have her remove the insipid boy and his lackeys from her apartment._'

Scarecrow mentally shrugged, '_I concede to __**that**__ much; Crow would have been the first to __**volunteer**__ as to the first example, and as to the second, Crow would have seen through your words, but would have reacted in a defiant and rude manner._'

'_It seems we're __**always**__ having these kinds of discussions about Chelsie and Crow now that we have so much free time to think,_' pointed out the ex-doctor, looking around the courtyard and tugging at his ill-fitting Arkham uniform that was pale blue.

'_What else is worth discussing?_' Scarecrow questioned, looking through Jonathan's eyes at their surroundings. '_Other than watching the more chronically __**frightened**__ patients, there's nothing else worthy of taking up our time._'

Jonathan sighed outwardly, then replied mentally, '_You have a point. But how did we manage to become so __**obsessed**__ with her?_'

'_It was __**your**__ fault for losing your memories and staying in her apartment for much too long,_' accused his other half. '_And at the time, you were much less __**inhibited**__ by the traits you gained long ago that helped to create me._'

Scarecrow sighed within their mind, '_But we were __**both**__ in disarray as I should have forced you to leave when staying was no longer a necessity. I only remember thinking she was pretty and that I'd like to stick around to find out what really scared her. The former was __**completely**__ out of character, but the need to frighten her specifically was understandable as it must have stemmed from her unexpected reaction to the toxin in the air._'

'_And when I was __**fixated**__ on her,_' Jonathan carried on for him, '_you thought keeping the strange girl as a __**pet**__ of sorts would be __**interesting**__, didn't you?_'

With a laugh, Scarecrow answered, '_Yes, and I thought we could test our compound on her, but I never got around to it seeing as your unexpectedly __**lovey-dovey feelings**__ got in the way..._'

'_But I found out what made her scared, and she was uniquely __**beautiful**__ when frightened,_' the alter ego carried on thoughtfully. '_I knew she would break and become something like us... And I had decided that since you loved her and I wanted to keep her, that she needed a half more suited to a criminal lifestyle. That was the only way she could remain comfortably beside us._'

'_In your own twisted way, you were being __**considerate**__?_' questioned Jonathan disbelievingly.

'_If that helps you sleep at night, then yes._'

Sometimes - times like this - Jonathan wished Scarecrow was a separate entity so he could punch him in the face.

He pointed out, '_You haven't explained why you came to __**love**__ them..._'

'_I'm a part of you; how could I __**not**__?_' countered the Scarecrow simply. '_I was merely reluctant at first, but when she became like us, she was perfect... And when she used the name Crow, __**that**__ was when I knew she was meant for us._'

The alter ego shrugged mentally, '_I was infatuated because Crow was the personification of their strength and fearlessness, both qualities deserving of our mutual admiration, and Chelsie was the small, fragile one who held their softness. Chelsie showed us that kindness, to which we would normally hold __**disdain**__, could be pleasing, and that it didn't __**always**__ make us weak._'

'_If we weren't so susceptible at the time,_' began the ex-doctor, '_do you believe we would still have come to where we are now?_'

'_No,_' Scarecrow answered without hesitation. '_I suppose we should attempt to thank Ms. Dawes for tasering us in the face, but she would likely call the police... And then Crow and Chelsie would be too ashamed to help us escape from Arkham again._'

'_You still think they're going to come get us?_' asked Jonathan incredulously.

'_Actually, I'm assuming they'll allow themselves to be caught at some point so they can find out for themselves the reason we haven't already left,_' Scarecrow gave his theory. '_They're both too curious to leave us for too long... The only thing delaying them __**now**__ is the __**clown**__._'


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** One really small thing I want to clear up from last chapter.

I had Jonathan/Scarecrow in a pale blue Arkham suit. I know in the movies the people in Arkham wore orange, but I decided to color-code (to some degree) the inmates in my story, even if you'll never see the extent of it.

In my head, the high-security inmates wear pale blue. Middle-security wears dark orange. Low-security wears forest green. (I know all of that's really unrealistic, so read further.)

Why, you ask? Because I had a dream about living in Arkham Asylum and that's part of how the place worked in my dream. Only, for some reason, _my_ uniform was rainbow-colored. Go figure.

It was like a little shout out to my man Morpheus for always being kind enough to give me a kickass dream whenever I need a little late night boost of inspiration.

Also, this chapter explains why one of Crow's men (Jimmy from the last chapter) was caught and put in Arkham, in case you were wondering.

Enjoy the short chapter!

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Five - Dumb Luck**

* * *

Back with Chelsie and her Crow, the clown was out performing his little plan to kill Gambol, so the pair had time to themselves. They were not allowed to go because, as the Joker had reasoned, it would look like she didn't care about him. Apparently, that was _bad_. Go figure.

As of now, Chelsie sat on her side of her bed with her back to her pillows which were propped against the wall, a magazine in her hands that she wasn't really paying attention to. She was busy wondering what Crow's plans were, if Crow even got that far ahead of herself.

'_Crow?_' Chelsie inwardly called to her alter.

'_What is it, sweetheart?_' inquired the black bird in the back of their mind.

The host sighed with some trepidation about asking her question, but asked nonetheless.

'_What is it you're planning to do?_'

'_Plannin' isn't much my __**style**__, sweetheart; I simply have vague ideas of where I want to go that are easy to employ with some improvisation,_' explained the bird with a grin. '_But as for where I want to go, I'm waitin' for the clown to get caught before I take off to do a li'l searchin' around for the identity of the Bat._'

Chelsie quirked an eyebrow curiously, '_Why are you trying to find out Batman's identity?_'

'_Whoever has the Bat's identity's gotta be the most powerful person in Gotham, sweetheart,_' Crow explained patiently. '_What I end up __**doin'**__ with the name will be the finale. I can always give it to the clown and let him unleash anarchy on Gotham however he sees fit, or I could wait until Gotham turns on the Bat. If Batty-boy becomes wanted, I could give the name then and see what happens to him._'

'_For all this, you'd need proof,_' pointed out the host. '_So far, we don't even know where to start __**looking**__ to find his name._'

'_Have a li'l __**faith**__ in me, sweetheart; I know __**just**__ where to start lookin',_' Crow assured her with a mental nod. '_But first, I need to meet up with the Bat to some degree... I gotta see him in action with his li'l toys._'

Chelsie scowled, having never really wanted to see the Bat herself; seeing Batman had always been _Crow's_ idea, and she'd never been happy about it.

'_And how do you plan to get us near Batman?_'

'_Just follow the __**big dogs**__, Chels!_' laughed Crow. '_If we follow the clown at the right time, we'll be able to meet up with the Bat... and then, at the opportune moment, we escape them __**both**__._'

'_What do you plan to do once you escape?_' Chelsie questioned her other half, intrigued.

Crow shrugged, '_Where we go depends on my analysis of the Bat._'

'_Do you even have any __**clues**__ as to who Batman is, or are you running on empty?_' asked the host, doubting Crow had an inkling as to who Batman was.

'_Of __**course**__ I've got clues, sweetheart!_' Crow answered indignantly. '_Here are the clues in no particular order: One clue is that somethin' in the Bat's life had to __**spur**__ his hero complex. And ten to one, somethin' happened in his life involvin' __**bats**__. Why __**else**__ would he pick the theme? And knowing Batsy, it's not just because he __**likes**__ the li'l winged rats._'

Chelsie outwardly nodded in contemplation, then replied inwardly, '_Yes, I think you're __**on**__ to something there... What __**else**__ do you have?_'

'_Another clue would have to be how I've heard the Bat has all these smooth fightin' moves,_' Crow added. '_Either he grew up learnin' somethin' like martial arts, or he had to have __**disappeared**__ for a time to devote himself to learnin' those moves. You don't just get the kind of moves I've heard he has without spendin' some serious time trainin', sweetheart._'

'_You make a valid point, but is __**that**__ clue the one that's forcing you to meet up with the Batman?_' questioned Chelsie curiously.

'_No, not that one. I've heard the same type of things from so many thugs that I'm pretty __**sure**__ the Bat knows some kind of martial arts,_' Crow denied, then added the next clue. '_The __**next**__ clue is why I gotta see the Bat myself. It states that either the Bat __**himself**__ is rich, which is the most plausible, or he __**knows**__ rich people, because his suit and play toys are definitely not somethin' you'd find in any __**store**__._'

Chelsie nodded outwardly, '_So you've gotta see his toys to make sure your theory is right._'

'_Precisely,_' Crow answered in the affirmative. '_My last clue is that Batman's daytime persona has to be somebody you'd __**least**__ expect, or else someone out there would've already figured it out._'

'_So he's rich, has a handsome income, either took martial arts classes studiously throughout his life or disappeared for a while to do some crash course learning, and something in his life must have given him a hero complex and the idea to use a bat as his symbol,_' Chelsie summed it all up carefully, stroking her chin thoughtfully as she nodded repeatedly.

'_Yeah, that's pretty much the __**gist**__ of it, sweetheart,_' concluded the black bird with a mental nod.

Chelsie bit her bottom lip, hand falling as she let all of the clues ruminate in her mind, stirring them together like a tasty stew.

'_You know, the __**richest**__ and most __**unlikely**__ candidate would be that guy you told me to take a look at while we were watching the news the other night,_' the host recalled, not sure of his name as she never really paid much attention to the news. '_I think his name was Brice Payne or something... Something like that... No, no! __**Bruce Wayne**__! That's it!_'

'_Wow. __**Bruce Wayne**__? That would certainly be a __**shocker**__, sweetheart!_' Crow said before cackling long and hard, remembering Wayne's playboy persona quite well. '_But, uh... you may be __**on**__ to somethin'. If even __**I**__ laugh at the possibility, it has an even __**greater**__ chance of bein' true._'

'_You really think __**Bruce Wayne**__ could be __**Batman**__?_' Chelsie asked incredulously, even if she'd been the one to bring him up in the first place.

'_It's improbable, I'll grant you __**that**__, but nothin' in this world is __**impossible**__, sweetheart,_' replied the black bird firmly. '_After all, you have __**dumb luck**__ seein' as you're mostly Irish, and you're still alive after takin' in __**one**__ villain and continually meetin' up with __**another**__... You, of __**all**__ people, may have the best chance of accidentally stumblin' over the Bat's identity. We seem to have some intrinsic connection to costumed __**freaks**__, anyway._'

'_You still need __**proof**__, though, so will you be checking up on Bruce Wayne?_'

'_With your luck of the Irish magic in mind, he's my __**top suspect**__,_' Crow informed her, cackling afterward, the sound echoing through their mind.

Chelsie then spoke up again, '_I was **also** wondering about what happened to that henchman of ours you didn't wake up. You remember him, **right**?_'

'_Uh... No, can't say as I __**do**__, sweetheart,_' Crow replied, slightly confused. '_Please refresh my memory._'

'_We went out on a routine bombing, and that guy named Jimmy had fallen asleep on the roof; you told the others to leave him there, even when there were sirens in the background._'

Crow grinned mentally, '_Yeah, I remember now. I left him there for the cops to find. I wanted to have him in Arkham so that Jonny boy and his darlin' Scarecrow might find out Jimmy was with us. Then he could get some info. from the guy about us._'

Before Chelsie could reply, the black bird asserted, '_Specifically, Jimmy's got a good head on his shoulders and he was startin' to figure out that the bombin's are just a cover now for when I run off to figure out who the __**Bat**__ is... So I __**expected**__ him to blab to __**Jonny**__ boy about it._'

'_Why would you want Jonathan and his Scarecrow to __**know**__ that?_' questioned the host.

'_I just wanna see what they'll __**do**__, obviously,_' Crow replied with a mental shrug. '_It's like leavin' breadcrumbs in different directions. I wanna see which way they'll go._'

Chelsie shook her head with a sigh, '_I hope you don't accidentally lead us into more trouble than you're expecting. I don't want to think of what will happen when you finally get caught unawares._'

'_And that's precisely why I always expect everythin', __**includin'**__ the unexpected,_' cooed the bird. '_I theorize my choices __**ahead**__ of time, sweetheart, so you don't have to worry yourself with the details._'

* * *

The next day, back in Arkham, it was time for Jonathan and Scarecrow to meet their new psychiatrist.

They were led off to an office with a name on the wooden door which read in gold lettering, "Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

Once inside and seated in a cushioned chair across from the woman, they noted she was a blonde with blue eyes and a happier expression than most doctors in Arkham wore. Their first guess was that she wasn't quite like other psychiatrists.

"Hello, Mr. Crane," greeted the pretty blonde, smile reaching her eyes. "My name is Harleen Quinzel."

Jonathan didn't reply, so the woman fidgeted a little, then went through a clipboard of papers on her desk.

"According to the late Dr. Grayson's work," she began, keeping her eyes down timidly, "the only thing you ever talked about was someone named..."

Harleen looked through her papers to find the name, but Jonathan finally spoke up, finishing her sentence.

"Chelsie and Crow."

She let the papers fall, looking up to her new patient, "Yes... I was wondering if you had anything _new_ to say about Chelsie and Crow."

The blonde leaned forward, clasping together her fingers and intently watching him with interest.

"I would like to have my rec. room privileges returned," he replied simply, then added a helpful prompt. "Perhaps then I would have something more to add to my earlier statements."

An amused smile broke out over Harleen's face as she leaned back in her chair, hands falling to her lap where one long, muscled leg draped over the other.

"Alright, Mr. Crane, we'll try things _your_ way," Harleen conceded easily, though Jonathan could feel the 'but' coming.

"_But_," the woman began, as predicted, "I can tell you now that Crow hasn't appeared on the news since the night you last saw one of her videos."

She then explained, "I've been keeping up with the news on Crow and the Joker so that if they are brought into Arkham, I might have a chance of becoming their psychiatrist. And then, perhaps, since you three seem somehow _connected_, we could begin group therapy to work out your interrelated issues."

"As _pleasant_ as that sounds, Ms. Quinzel," Jonathan said, leaning forward and attempting to hide his look of discomfort at the idea of meeting the clown bastard face-to-face in some sham of group therapy, "I simply want to know what Crow is doing on her own."

"The last thing I heard about Crow was that she was suspected of many unconnected bombings," Harleen told him. "She does not appear to have any _purpose_ to what she's been doing so far."

"Ms. Quinzel, anyone with a _masters_ in psychology could tell you that the bombings are just a cover now for her _real goal_," the ex-doctor snapped impatiently, not knowing whether Crow and Chelsie were alright taking its toll on him and causing his knee-jerk reaction.

* * *

Scarecrow growled and spat sarcastically, '_**Please**__, go ahead and tell this idiotic woman that our Crow is __**planning**__ something! __**Wonderful**__ idea, doctor!_'

Jonathan ignored Scarecrow, although he was mentally kicking himself for announcing Crow's plans to some degree.

What would Crow and Chelsie have thought if they could have seen him just then?

* * *

Harleen nibbled on her bottom lip before replying, "And what do you think they're planning to _do_, Mr. Crane?"

Jonathan collected himself, leaning back in his seat as he stared at her with his icy gaze, regaining his calm demeanor.

"Return our rec. room privileges," he began firmly, "and we'll have something new to say, Ms. Quinzel."

Quinzel sighed, then gave in, "I'll see what I can do."


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the unannounced hiatus, but life happens. Updates will be infrequent unless I get a burst of inspiration.

I'd like to thank Lynx Klaw for reviewing my first fic. (Chapter by chapter no less!) If you read this, I'm glad you like the story.

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Six - Blackbird's Song**

* * *

A scream. A vase shattering against the wall. A _pained_ scream.

Crow had dodged the vase, alright, but an array of large shards that were produced as it shattered against the wall were now lodged into her body.

She sank to her knees with a strangled breath, and not even the Joker who had _thrown_ the vase could stop her men and some of his own from rushing to her.

Blood poured out of her fresh, new wounds. One large shard was stuck in her side, another, slightly smaller, protruding from her upper arm, and small ones were littered about.

The Joker watched blankly as the more medically knowledgeable of their henchmen shouted orders to the others - orders he couldn't quite hear.

Everything was foggy for the clown; he hadn't meant to supply her wounds that might be fatal.

"It's a good sign she's not bleedin' at the mouth," a plain thug with some medical know-how assured some of the others who were more frozen with worry.

However, Crow herself was halfway hiccuping in short breaths, the shock clouding her brain. She couldn't even feel the pain yet, Chelsie inside of her and crying out in the darkness.

Chelsie wasn't afraid to die, but that didn't mean she _wanted_ to. Not now, at least, as there was so much left that she could accomplish, like helping Crow find out the Bat's identity or eventually finding a way to spring Jonathan and his Scarecrow from Arkham. No, she did _not_ want to die - not now and not for a good while to come.

"Apply pressure around the wounds," ordered the same thug, others complying.

"Did it hit a vital organ?" one clown-masked henchman questioned.

The other one sighed, but replied favorably, "I think it was damn near _close_, but not quite."

Crow stared ahead, still on her knees; her eyes were unseeing.

"It ain't like we can take 'er to a _hospital_, sos I think we'd do best by removin' the shards _ourselves_, fellas," a different man in a clown mask suggested.

Suddenly, Crow's eyes rolled back and she abruptly fainted.

* * *

The Joker watched the henchmen work on Crow. None of them would even look in his direction, and whether it was because they were too focused on the brunette or because they were secretly pissed at him, he didn't know.

"Is she gonna _die_?" one clown-masked henchman finally asked, everyone glaring at him a moment before wordlessly returning to their jobs.

Of _course_ she would live, the Clown Prince reasoned; she was _Crow_, a very resilient woman.

She couldn't die on him just like that.

He was feeling... _dread_; he didn't want to be the reason for his own toy's untimely death.

This time, their fight had started out simple enough; Crow had refused to quit the toxin business, even when he told her it wasn't a request. He didn't want her dealing with the mob. Dealings with the mob could get you _killed_.

Ironic how he endangered her life over an attempt to keep her safe.

Not that he had actually been aiming the vase _at_ her.

And who was stupid enough to buy a vase and leave it right in his path _anyway_?

It's not like a villain hideout required _flowers_ for shit's sake!

"Is she breathin'?" he heard someone ask.

"_Barely_," replied another.

He couldn't take it; without a word to anyone, he left the warehouse.

* * *

The clown went away from the warehouse, aimlessly wandering alleyways.

He remembered acutely now how he felt when he found his pregnant wife dead, the memory itself playing out in his head, a memory that had long been buried.

He _shook_ his head, attempting to throw out the memory and only succeeding in slightly dislodging it.

Jeannie he had loved as Jack, but he didn't love Crow, so why was he feeling this way - feeling like it was his fault that someone he actually cared for was dead?

It would be a miracle if she _didn't_ die, after all.

He held his head as he walked the street, a knife gripped in his hand for some kind of comfort.

'_I don't love her. Don't love her,_' he assured himself in his confused mind.

But if he didn't love her, why did it matter so much that she was hurt? Why did it matter that he may be the _reason_ for her death? Why did he want to know she was alright?

Questions continually ran through his thoughts, disturbing him - plaguing his mind.

And so on they went until a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered, '_You care about her..._'

* * *

Eventually, Crow's wounds were under some sort of control, heavily bandaged.

Her current location was in a cot in the makeshift infirmary in her warehouse hideout.

One clown-masked thug and one plain one sat on guard beside her sleeping body.

The Maroni-lent thug had dark blue eyes and short, spiked grey hair while the one in a clown mask wore his hair long in a dark brown shade, his eyes that were mostly obscured behind the mask a dark green.

"So what were they fightin' about that got the Joker so _pissed_?" asked the plain-clothed thug, looking to the one in the mask.

"Same thing Boss has been fightin' with 'er about for almost a month since he found out she was dealin' with the _mob_," the other replied with a helpless shrug.

The other man snorted, "Why's that guy actin' like he gives a _rat's_ about 'er?"

"Dunno, Joe," replied the other with a more clueless shrug. "But Boss is pretty _distracted_ by 'er. I mean, I've never known the guy to be followin' after dames, sos he must see somethin' _special_ in 'er."

"Crow's a helluva lot _nicer_ than the clown or the crazy ex-doctor," pointed out the Maroni-lent man thoughtfully. "Don't see why 'er type's attractin' such _crazies_."

"Well, ya gotta admit she's a li'l bit off," the clown thug reminded him.

"It's understandable with what she went through with the ex-doc," said the other man insistently, having been around for the birth of Crow. "I've been around since before she started up with that Crow personality, and it all started after our ol' lead thug raped 'er and then she saw his bloody death at Crane's hands... She just kinda lost some sanity after that."

They sat in silence afterward, watching the blackbird sleep.

* * *

The next day, Chelsie woke up slowly, a sharp pain in her side making her groan.

Opening her eyes, her stormy gaze noticed she was in the warehouse's makeshift infirmary, and she was lying on a small cot.

She was hardly able to move, the pain in her side and arm causing dots in her vision.

"You, ah... shouldn'-_t_ move," a familiar voice advised, Chelsie looking to her left to see the clown sitting in a nearby chair, twirling around one of his damned knives.

She glared at him briefly before looking away and up to the ceiling, resting back into the bed with an annoyed huff.

Chelsie didn't expect him to apologize, of course; he would have to acquire a working _heart_ to do that. So in return, she decided not to grace him with a single word, eyes glued to the ceiling as she glowered up at it.

Crow was still in the back of her mind, brooding and being angry at the clown for nearly killing them both.

Suddenly, Crow took over after Chelsie blinked away.

"Why are you here, puddin' pop?" she demanded with barely concealed anger in her tone, eyes staring at the ceiling. "Come to see if your aim was better than it _looked_?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably, "I wasn'-_t_ aiming for _you_, dollfac-_e_."

The brunette snorted, then spoke disbelievingly, "Whatever you _say_, lambiekins."

"Look. Listen," he said, his serious tone making her look over at him as he stared at the wall past her. "I kill you and there'sss no one to rule Gotham with. I don'-_t_ _wan-__**t**_ to kill you."

"Then maybe you should try not to throw things in my general vicinity," she snapped at him with a snarl, quickly looking away, her cheeks flushed with anger.

"I gotta protect my Chelsie, so I think you should... take a hike... _You know_... have a nice day... somewhere _else_," she alluded to him leaving not so tactfully, waving a dismissive hand in his general direction.

He growled, replying, "No, no, no... You're mine _now_, little Crow."

Crow's stormy eyes narrowed as she stared ahead of her and grit her teeth; she was no man's possession. The brunette didn't appreciate anyone claiming ownership of her like an object. She knew what it felt like all too well, remembering all those years with that goth prick of a boyfriend Chelsie once latched herself onto.

However, the blackbird held her tongue; Crow was not in the mood to get killed before she was on top of the game. No, she still had something left to do.

Instantly, a tune came into her mind, a smile forming on her lips.

She crossed her arms behind her head and lapped one leg over the other as she began to hum Diana Krall's version of Bye Bye Blackbird.

The Clown Prince watched her closely, noticing the drastic change in demeanor. He didn't know the soft tune she was humming, but from her unexpected reaction, he knew she had something up her sleeve - some ace in the hole he could only ponder at.

When _didn't_ she have something up her sleeve?


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, an update. They're infrequent, but they're coming. I just have other things I'm working on, so I'm sorry, but it can't be helped. I kind of fell out of love with this fandom, so it's hard to get out the chapters. Again, sorry. Just bare with me, if you're still reading.

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Seven - Changes**

* * *

Crow was laid out on her bed. It had been two days since the 'incident' with the clown. She had moved from the infirmary cot and back to her own bed, but then stayed there for most of her time.

The clown? Well, he was missing, probably trying to wrap his head around almost having killed his own toy.

For some reason, her state of near death had distressed him, making her ponder briefly over whether he may still have a human heart lingering within. She sincerely doubted it, however.

As to her wounds, they were nicely bandaged up courtesy of one of the Joker's men who had a clue as to what he was doing, and for him she was thankful. However, they needed to be changed sooner than later. To do it herself, though, would be a feat. If she moved too much, the stitching could pop and she'd have a whole new kettle of fish to deal with. She didn't fancy that thought.

From where she lie, beak not even on her face and thus leaving the area which was uncovered twitching habitually, the bird girl sighed deeply.

"Oh, Chels... We wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't taken in Crazy Crane," Crow spoke aloud in the empty room, smirking to herself even as her face twitched periodically.

'_Yes, I know,_' Chelsie replied in their shared thoughts. '_But then again, I never would have created __**you**__, my __**hero**__._'

"True enough, sweetheart; true enough," conceded the alter ego, once more speaking aloud.

Moments later, her bedroom door opened, none other than the Joker walking in.

She merely looked at him, face still twitching oddly.

After staring at her a moment, he walked in and shut the door behind him before heading to a desk near her bed. He pulled the chair closer to her bed, spinning it around and sitting down with the back of the chair before him, his arms resting over it.

"_Sooo_," he began, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a knife to toy with. "The li'l, ah, _tune_ you were humming the other day..."

The blackbird sighed, having realized the subject would eventually come up.

"What was it?" the clown asked, gaze rising from his knife to Crow's face.

"If I _told_ you, things would be _borin'_, puddin' pop," she reasoned with a smile, a finger scratching the skin that her beak would normally cover. "You don't strike me as someone who likes things to be borin'..."

* * *

The Joker's little visit, in which he let his question go unanswered, was rather boring for the bird girl. He didn't talk much and seemed cautious around her for reasons she could only guess had something to do with her near-death experience.

At least he had made himself useful and changed her bandaging, doing so in a particularly careful and gentle manner that unnerved her greatly, even though she made no hint of the feeling outwardly. She reasoned it unnerved her because his type weren't so supposed to be so cautious; he was supposed to be rough and uncaring of her pain.

Something had obviously changed in their dynamic, Crow realized, but she wasn't sure what it was.

Whatever it was, however, she was sure the catalyst had been the incident with the vase, for what else could change his behavior so drastically?

She hoped - _prayed_, even - that his demeanor would revert back to its old, familiar manner. Crow didn't think she could stand a Joker who handled her with care. It was decidedly less _fun_ than his normal dog-like habit of just doing things regardless of the consequences, rules be damned and broken alike.

* * *

The next day, Crow was tired of laying in bed, so she sat up on the edge at the side of the mattress instead.

As of the moment, she bore a thoughtful expression.

"Ah... Whatcha' thinkin' about, dollfac-_e_?" a sudden voice asked, Crow breaking her stare off into nothing to look over to the curious countenance of the clown.

The Joker had come back and was acting slightly more like himself, now more talkative and less somber-toned. For that change, she was relieved and thankful.

"I was wonderin' why Jonny boy hasn't broken out of _Arkham_ yet," the brunette replied honestly, looking away thoughtfully. "I thought he would come back to me..."

The Joker brushed it off, stating, "Jonny boy probably doesn'-_t_ _care_ abou-_t_ you..."

She scowled, staring ahead once more; Crow _knew_ Scarecrow wouldn't give up his love notion that easily. Obviously, Jonathan and his Scarecrow had some kind of _plan_. Maybe they were waiting for the opportune moment to escape, or maybe Scarecrow wanted her to come bust him out so that he'd have "_proof_" of her undying love or something ridiculous like that.

But all these thoughts were not for the clown to hear; she had to keep him relatively happy and he probably didn't want her mind wandering off in regards to Jonathan and the Scarecrow while he was in her presence. He was too egotistical to allow that, after all.

"If he's waitin' for us to break him outta there, he'll be waitin' a long time," she commented, Crow smirking at the thought of Scarecrow and Jonny waiting patiently for the one they apparently loved to bust them out of Arkham as if they weren't perfectly capable of breaking out of there themselves.

The Joker laughed, satisfied to imagine Crane pining away after the pair in his cell. As long as the crazy ex-doctor was away from his toy, however, he didn't care what became of the other man.

"_Sooo_... his business," the clown brought up the topic that had caused the 'incident' carefully, brown gaze lifting to the bird to see her body stiffen and shudder like a crow whose feathers were ruffled.

"I'm still runnin' it, Pooka," she said, calling him a nickname she recently thought of.

He was like a Pooka, after all, the Pooka being a deft shape shifter. It could take on many terrifying forms, one such being a horse of which was said that if a human should mount it, the Pooka would take the person for a wild ride. However, unlike another mythical being, it would do no real harm to the rider.

That was what he was like to her, the nickname both an insult and a compliment, neither of which he would probably ever catch on to.

"_Pooka_," he muttered the nickname, pondering over it. "Poo-_ka_..."

Satisfied with the strange name which he didn't question, he looked back up to her.

"Then, ah, let's... com-_pro_-mise," suggested the Joker.

Crow peered over her shoulder at him curiously, "I'm listenin'..."

"Let me... Ah, let _me_ run his li'l business until Jonny boy comes back-_ah_," he gave her his offer, gaze watching her.

"Hm... Well, that sounds _fine_, funny bunny, so it's a deal," the bird girl gave in easily, pleased to have the business off her back.

Truth be told, she didn't _want_ to deal with Jonathan's damn business, only feeling she should keep it afloat since she owed him as much. But _who_ ran it wasn't important as long as it was run.

Joker smiled, pleased with the ease of getting her to relent.

And then both of their minds turned, both pondering on their new dynamic...

* * *

Meanwhile, at Arkham, Crane's rec. room privileges had been restored thanks to Harleen Quinzel. However, just as she said, it seemed Crow wasn't making anymore videos. Such only suggested she was too busy with the clown to carry out her distractions.

Such didn't please him in the _least_, nor did it please his Scarecrow.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** Another chapter done. Yaaay!

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Eight - Possibilities**

* * *

Chelsie woke up abruptly, eyes flying open without care before she sat up with super speed on a very comfortable bed.

Stormy eyes trailed around her, finding unfamiliar surroundings, much to her dismay.

But what stood out most, and foretold the name of her captor as well, was the color scheme to the bedroom she was in.

'_Purple and green,_' Chelsie thought with a loathsome scowl.

The last thing she could remember was taking a powerful sedative after a couple of nights without any sleep. Apparently, she and Crow had been too keyed up for their active brains to slow down into a state of rest.

She looked around, noticing the walls were painted purple with green borders on the top and bottom of each, purple flowers with yellow centers lining the green borders in alternating up and down patterns.

She would have said it were nice, but the flowers gave the room a Scooby-Doo van feel for some odd reason. Chelsie _hated_ that van, though she never knew quite why.

Looking down at the bed, she saw green sheets with a purple comforter, green flowers with yellow centers on it in horizontal, wavy patterns, somewhat matching the look of the wall borders.

"Who does his interior decorating?" she pondered aloud with a small grin, despite herself.

Eyes traveling back up, she gazed at the minimal furniture of the room, noting dresser drawers of alternating colors. The top drawer was purple, the two parted knobs shaped like flowers and green, the centers yellow. The next drawer was green with purple flower knobs with yellow centers. And so on the pattern went to make four large drawers in total, the rest of the wooden dresser drawers purple.

Mounted on the wall to her right was a large flat screen TV, the woman impressed he'd bothered to buy such an expensive item when he would likely have to flee from his hideout at any time, considering the Batman might find him.

On the farthest end of that wall, away from the bed, was a door that probably led to a closet, the door shut.

She then saw an open bathroom door to the left on the same wall that the head of the bed rested against, but didn't bother to get up and look.

'_...Three guesses, Chels, but we're certainly not in __**Kansas**__ anymore, my dear Toto,_' crooned Crow from within the confines of their shared brain with a happy grin etched into her tone.

Chelsie sighed deeply, '_I take it you know why the Joker has kidnapped us._'

'_**Bzzt**__!_' Crow buzzed in return with a little giggle. '_I'm just as clueless as __**you**__, sweetheart, and that's really __**sayin'**__ somethin'._'

The brunette host groaned outwardly at her alter's joke before rubbing her forehead with frustration.

Chelsie didn't even know if it were day or night outside the bedroom walls, but she supposed that even the _Joker_ would have sent someone to wake her if it was daylight. After all, she hadn't been harmed, so extra rest was not necessary.

A sudden knock at the door in a little, familiar tune startled her from her thoughts, eyes tearing up from the bed to the wooden door that was painted purple with a green flower that had a yellow center on it.

She cleared her throat, then awkwardly called, "Come in!"

Soon, something beeped, the doorknob turned and the door pushed open to reveal the Clown Prince of Crime himself who walked in. Closing the door, he activated what had to be a lock on the door via a small electrical panel that rested beside the doorway.

"Can I ask a question?" Chelsie asked warily, but was brave enough to speak.

He turned around and she noticed his wide grin; he seemed in a good mood.

'_He probably just __**killed**__ somethin',_' Crow offered an explanation, laughing lightly at her own half joke.

"You just _di-__**d**_," the Joker answered, Chelsie's shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I can't argue with _that_ logic," she groaned, receiving a fit of laughter from the diabolical clown.

He calmed down abruptly, walking closer to the foot of the bed.

"Shoot, Chels," he allowed finally, exaggeratedly motioning for her to commence the actual question.

"This is standard, _boring_ procedure, but I have to ask why you've kidnapped us," the woman drawled out, hating to go through the whole rigmarole like some normal hostage.

He tilted his head, puzzled at why she had to ask.

"Because you're, uh... _mine_," he answered, as if it were obvious.

"_This_," said the clown, gesturing all around the room, "is your new home-_uh_."

Chelsie could have died right then and there; after all, her heart stopped beating for the longest second in the history of time before it rose and got caught in her throat, the brunette swallowing the lump which fell back into place.

He tilted his head to the other side, "No nee-_d_ to look so _serious_, Chels."

"Well, I didn't expect to be a _permanent resident_ is all," she told him honestly, playing off a casual tone as she regained her unaffected attitude.

"What did you, ah, thin-_k_ you _were_... a _hostage_?" he asked, giggling at the suggestion.

"Actually, _yeah_, I _did_," answered Chelsie with a weak smile and a timid gaze. "I don't keep tabs on Crow... I thought she might've pissed you off... And plus, there's the whole _kidnapping_ me issue..."

'_I'm not crazy enough to piss __**that**__ guy off! He's flippin' __**bonkers**__!_' protested Crow indignantly.

Chelsie ignored the alter ego, watching the Joker carefully.

"The, ah... _kidnapping_ part couldn't... be _avoid_-ed," the clown replied, drumming the fingers of one hand to his pants leg and scratching his scalp with the other as he looked for the right words to explain himself.

Usually, he wasn't at a loss for words, but how could he just come out and say 'oh, I was afraid you wouldn't come willingly, so I just _kidnapped_ you instead... but it's all for your own good!' without looking stupid?

Chelsie sighed, putting together the dots in a moment of clarity, "You kidnapped me because you thought I wouldn't come willingly..."

"Would you-- I mean, ah... _would_ you have?" he asked nervously, shifting his weight to one foot.

"No," she answered, blunt and honest, knowing the consequence might be deadly if he didn't like that reply, so she added an explanation. "I don't like getting cut like _Crow_ does, and I _certainly_ don't feel like getting killed because of one of your moods that I myself probably couldn't sway you from like _she_ could. And then there's the point that I'm supposed to be, at the least, _helping_ Jonathan's... _business_."

A brief, fiery anger passed in his eyes at the mention of the other man's name before he returned to a rather happy mood as if nothing had happened.

"_Listen_, kiddo," he began, striding over to her side of the bed and taking a seat close to her, "you need to forget all _abou-__**t**_ Jonny boy..."

Reaching up, his gloved hand tucked her bangs behind her ear with gentleness she didn't know he had in him, the Joker adding, "He's out of the _pic_-ture, _capiche_? He's, ah... not goin' to be a... a _problem_ for you anymore-_uh_."

His fingers trailed her jawline, thumb softly petting her pink lips as his eyes watched the slow, drawn-out act.

"You need to, um... simply forge-_t_ he ever _exist_-ed," he reaffirmed the idea, eyes trailing up to her stormy orbs, his tongue subconciously licking over the scars of his mouth.

"_But_... I still don't understand the _purpose_ of all of this," she said thoughtfully, staring off to the side.

"No matter how much she admires your ideas, Crow can't betray her own creator that she's dedicated all of her work to," Chelsie explained.

He roughly gripped her chin, shaking her head up and down once before her eyes met his dark gaze.

"Crow needs to remember... who taught her _ev_erythin-_g_," he returned insistently, smacking his lips and taking a deep, loud breath before reiterating. "I, _uh_... think she'll find I'm... much more _recipient_ to her devotion."

"I'm sure she heard the message," Chelsie assured him, "but that doesn't explain why you've kidnapped us. And unless you want to dance around the question some more before we get down to the root of the matter, you might as well explain it to us, because, frankly, not even _Crow_ knows why we're here."

He let go of her chin, patting her cheek none too gently which showed his impatience, "Because you're both _mine_, dollfac-_e_, just like I told you before-_ah_."

He grinned at her blank gaze; she _really_ didn't get it.

"That's why I _love_ you, kid," the clown told her, stroking her cheek before patting it once more.

Then he slipped out his favorite knife, flicking open the blade.

Chelsie froze, staring at the weapon before her eyes shot up to his deep brown gaze, the woman asking with some trepidation, "What're you gonna _do_?"

"We, uh... have to give you a little... just a _liii_ttle mar-_k_," he told her, thumb and forefinger expressing just how little he considered it.

"_Why_?" she questioned warily, leaning away from the blade.

"I can't have other men taking you for _them_selves, dollfac-_e_," explained the Joker, eyes trailing over her body in search of a good place to make his mark.

She shivered; why was he acting possessive?

None of this fit together well in her naive mind.

Brown eyes trailed over her as her thoughts raced, his hand playing with his knife as he thought over the possibilities...


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** Woo! Another one! Enjoy. Review if you like, hate, dislike, or love it.

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Nine - New Dynamic**

* * *

Chelsie shivered involuntarily, her hands cuffed to each other and then above her head to the steel bedpost, her ankles also cuffed together, but otherwise free.

During the entire reception of her new mark, she had screamed and tried valiantly to throw the Joker off of her, but nothing she did could dissuade the man.

He was physically stronger and held her down easily for the procedure.

Now, however, she simply just cried as the pain at the side of her neck pounded.

She thought to herself that at least he'd been slow and careful, attempting to give the least amount of pain possible.

Of course, she found that strange coming from _him_, but it was still a blessing.

Eyes opening from how they'd been clenched shut, she stared at the purple ceiling.

'_Why was he trying so damn hard not to cause me pain when __**he**__ was the one who decided I needed some damn mark like you'd brandish a damn __**cow**__?_' she pondered angrily, taking steadier breaths by now.

Crow sighed, '_I don't know what's gotten into him... unless he thinks multiple ocassions of sex automatically make us his property slash steady girlfriend..._'

Crow paused; she'd never told Chelsie that she slept with the clown, Chelsie always hidden in their mind from the act.

'_**YOU **_**SLEPT**_** WITH HIM**__?!_' Chelsie roared back with fury, shocking Crow who stammered for a response.

Composing herself, Crow replied, '_I'm a __**woman**__, Chels... __**You**__ may be the virginal saint of the year, but I need a little bodily lovin', sweetheart._'

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, the Joker walking in with a serious stride, a first aid kit in his hands. He locked the door habitually, then went to the bed, sitting beside the brunette.

She curiously watched him go to work cleaning up the blood gingerly, then applying medication.

It stung like a bitch, her jaw clenched and grinding with every dab.

"You need to develop a little, uh... tolerance for _pain_, dollfac-_e_," he told her, smiling slightly as he worked at applying proper bandaging.

"If people would stop brandishing _knives_ at me, I wouldn't _need_ to!" she retorted hotly, growling as her body flailed.

Never in her life had Chelsie - not Crow, but _Chelsie_ - felt so infuriated.

"Shh, shh," the clown tried to calm her raging form, holding her shoulders down, though his attempts sounded mocking at best. "I know you're stressed, babe, but this is ri-dic-u-lous."

"I don't even know if it's day or night, and this place is hotter than hell, and _Crow_ keeps pissing me off, and, and... I've never been so frustrated in my _life_!" she ranted wildly, still shaking violently as if it did any good against his super strength in comparison to her weak, frail struggles.

He climbed over her and leaned down, kissing her forehead as she panted in her blind rage.

"You're with _me_ now, angel face, so, uh... you don't have to _wor_-ry," the Joker assured her in his best attempt at a soothing voice. "You don't have to deal with mob men, or Batsy, or _Scarecrow_, or anyone _else_..."

"It's just you and _me_, sweet cheeks," assured the man hovering over her, kissing her forehead again as her struggles began to slow, weakening to half-hearted shoves.

She let out a long sigh, closing her eyes and attempting to relax.

He moved down a little, leaning his forehead to hers and letting their noses touch.

At his hot breath pouring over her lips, she opened her eyes to meet deep brown orbs staring intently back at her.

"Are you ever going to uncuff me?" she immediately questioned, lips brushing against his.

"_Mayyy_be," he answered with a mischievous grin before kissing her lips softly.

At her pleading look, he took out the key from his coat pocket, reaching up and undoing the cuff to the bed post.

Deftly, with agility she didn't realize she could muster, she grabbed the cuff with her cuffed hand, the key with the other, and then cuffed his wrist.

Then she put the key in her mouth.

He quirked an eyebrow as she swallowed.

But then she gagged, coughing violently and spitting it out, sending it across the room to the side.

"That was... _some_-thin-_g_," he said slowly, bewildered, looking off toward where the key fell with raised eyebrows.

He'd never seen anyone try to swallow a _key_ before, and was still surprised.

"Well it works in cartoons with much bigger keys and much smaller necks!" she cried indignantly, though after the fact she realized how entirely _dumb_ that had sounded.

He looked back to her and burst out laughing, her resulting pout only encouraging the fit.

When he got control of himself, he asked between chuckles, "What, uh... what _exactly_ were you trying to, uh... _do_?"

She frowned deeply, "If I could cuff myself to you and get rid of the key, you'd have to eventually leave and take me _with_ you..."

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you _no-__**t**_ to swallow foreign objectsss?" he asked through a grin, but noticed the flash of hurt in her eyes.

"No mommy _dear_-est, _huh_?" questioned the clown without a single hint of pity, staring down at her in expectance of some explanation.

"Yes, but... I was really raised by uncaring nannies," she clarified with a shrug, as if it were nothing. "Nothing traumatic, sad, or fucked up... just unloved."

"Hmm," he hummed, searching her eyes before muttering. "I don't see why..."

"Why no one _loved_ me?" Chelsie asked with a bitter laugh. "_Crow_ is the only one who matters... Chelsie is nothing. Crow is... _everything_. She's charismatic, entertaining, witty, happy-go-lucky, dangerous... _everything_. I'm just along for the ride."

She then dared to say her thoughts, being honest, "That's really why I'm even here at _all_, isn't it? Crow is just a very popular girl."

He snarled, the reaction unexpected and startling her as she flinched, his hands gripping her shoulders as he shook her once.

"Stop talking and listen," the Joker ordered darkly, though his tone softened before he carried on. "I want you _both_ aroun-_d_, kiddo, so, uh... how about you _stop_ the self-pity? It's not _pretty_, sweetie..."

"You want us _both_ around?" she repeated with disbelief and surprise, cocking an eyebrow curiously. "You've only ever wanted _Crow_ to appear, so don't pretend--"

He swiftly pulled out his knife, pressing it to her throat as he pulled her head back by a fist of brown locks.

"You. Complete. Crow," he growled out, face inches from hers, though he was grinning twistedly. "Crow is the action, the brawn and the brains, but you're the emotion, the weakness and the luck, babydoll, _so_... don't ac-_t_ as if you're nothing, especially to _me_."

'_He seems to have us down to a '__**T**__', sweetheart,_' Crow mentioned thoughtfully.

Chelsie muttered back in their mind, '_Stop commenting and help me out here or something..._'

'_**Eh**__, he won't hurt you,_' assured the blackbird.

The Joker released his fistful of brown hair, hand petting the wavy locks instead in drastic contrast, "You're _weak-uh_... That's why you nee-_d_ me."

Without warning, he kissed her hard on the lips, pushing her down to rest her back fully on the mattress.

His tongue pressed her lips and forced its way into her mouth, then began searching her taste while his gloved hands roamed under her shirts.

With one hand, he gripped the front of her bra between her breasts, yanking her body upward and eliciting a squeak of protest.

She instinctively understood the pulling gesture, reluctantly allowing her tongue into his mouth.

Strangely, he tasted of Skittles, her brow furrowed in confusion.

'_The Joker eats __**candy**__?_' she asked in her thoughts, mainly to herself.

'_That's strange..._' muttered a bewildered Crow. '_I recently said somethin' about Skittles being my __**favorite**__. You know, one of those passin' things..._'

'_Well, he tastes like he's eaten a barrel __**full**__ of the stuff,_' mused Chelsie. '_I can't help but taste the fucking rainbow._'

Crow cackled with delight, '_You __**are**__ witty, Chels! You just don't __**share**__ it!_'

By the time Chelsie paid more attention to the kiss, she found her bra unhooked, his gloved hand massaging one breast.

Her groan was lost in his mouth, the Joker growling in reply rather ferally.

She tried to pull away, but he bit her tongue hard, pulling her mouth back to him and forcing her tongue to dance with his, her tongue now bloody as she whimpered.

'_Yeah, he __**does**__ that when he's not done,_' mentioned Crow, though she paused before adding a comment with a twinge of jealousy. '_He's never kissed __**me**__ the way he's kissin' __**you**__..._'

For the first time, Chelsie noticed her cuffed hand was gripping something, realizing he'd entwined their fingers and she was tightly holding his hand.

'_He probably feels __**sorry**__ for me, Crow,_' Chelsie told her reassuringly.

'_**No**__, sweetheart; he'd never kiss you like __**this**__ if it was some pity make-out session,_' replied Crow with a sigh. '_Chels... I know this is gonna sound off the wall, but I think he's __**in love**__ with us..._'

'_That __**does**__ sound crazy,_' the host admitted. '_Why would you __**think**__ that?_'

'_He's holdin' your hand to support you because he knows you're timid, for __**one**__ thing,_' she answered with another sigh. '_Lately, he's been talkin' about you, though... He asked all the right things to lead to this situation... He wants to be with you because you're the other half of the __**whole**__, Chels._'

Chelsie focused on the kiss that hadn't ended, feeling their mutual breaths pour from their noses.

When he finally pulled away, he rose up, eagerly moving to take off his jacket.

At that, she knew where things were going.

Panting, she announced, "I can't _do_ this!"

"_Wha-_?" the man above her muttered, stopping his movements.

He blinked at her; she blinked at him.

"Why no_-t_?" he asked at her silence, confusion on his features.

"I just _can't_," Chelsie insisted with an uneven breath.

The Joker tilted his head again, "Don't you, uh... _love_ me?"

She blinked up at him; apparently Crow's idea was not so far-fetched _after all_.

"Is _that_ what this is about?" she suddenly demanded worriedly. "Do you... think you _love_ us?"

He grinned down at her like she'd said the Pee-Wee's Playhouse magic word.

"You finally _ge-__**t**_ it, doll!" he exclaimed merrily, licking his lips before leaning down and kissing her mouth softly.

She felt her heart sink and her head spin, but she made herself pay attention. She couldn't afford to drift off into a daze since the Joker's mood could change at any given second.

Chelsie was chronically apathetic, but that didn't mean she had a _death wish_, regardless of how she made the worst decisions ever. Taking in a one Jonathan Crane a case in point.

After two kisses to her neck, he muttered against her skin, "And now we can be to-ge-ther."

'_So __**this**__ is the new dynamic,_' thought Crow, sighing mentally.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** Woo! Another one! Enjoy. Review, if you like. It's longer than usual.

Also, I know it's weird to see the Joker think he's in love. Most people only write him in a way where he always hurts the one they make him love, too. I didn't want to just do the same old thing, so I made her some kind of obsession.

Besides, that's the only way that interested me enough to keep writing. Seeing the same way over and over gets mighty old, and I'm just the kind of person to go outside the box.

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Ten - Playful**

* * *

That night, the Joker stayed with Chelsie and her Crow, now lying beside them in his bed, his jacket and vest off and lying over the back of a nearby chair, shoes also discarded.

Beside him, the two personas in one body slept peacefully, back turned to him as he lie on his back, hands behind his head with fingers entwined as he stared up at the purple ceiling, thinking about the woman beside him.

She wasn't like the others, and there _had_ been others. He obsessed over them for a time without any sexual facet to his fun until he felt no longer amused by their twisted desires for him, their time with him never lasting that long.

He knew how to pick women who were secretly fucked up enough to be drawn to his charismatic charm and pulled into the excitement of living beside him, a mad dog, regardless of how they scrambled to get away when the reality became too much for them to bear or when they themselves were hurt.

_All_ of them had wanted to know the story - the one behind his Chelsea grin - his Glasgow smile.

Not that he told any _one_ of them the truth. Had he _ever_ told someone the truth?

Probably not; it was all multiple choice for others.

Chelsie and Crow, however, were vastly different from those easily broken women whose minds were all too effortlessly corrupted, and who screamed in terror at his actions, yet wondered in their pretty little heads of his sob story - the events that led him to become who he was or who he kept reinventing himself to be.

No, Chelsie and Crow were not like them at _all_. The pair never asked those annoying personal questions because they lived in the here and now, not wondering uselessly over the why's and wherefore's, and he _liked_ that.

And beautifully enough, they were already fucked up to a 'T' before he ever met them; he didn't have to twist Crow's mind to get her to think like him, and no matter what he did, Chelsie wouldn't be a terrified, broken doll at any violent act he committed.

Maybe pissed off, as tonight had gone, but not terrified.

Chelsie was _far_ too strong to quiver where most women would be at the point of a breakdown. She didn't fear the idea that he could kill her at any minute. She believed he could, yes, but she didn't fear it. Not that she wanted to die, though. No, she had her Crow who had her plans.

Chelsie knew the fact of the matter was that individuals died every day and she could join the ranks at any moment. Why live in terror? Why be so _serious_? Instead, she went along for whatever ride life threw at her like a good little soldier, the perfect host for the rambunctious, wild and moody Crow.

The one thing he wanted to influence in Chelsie, however, was the fact that she didn't seem to _enjoy_ anything too much, whereas her counterpart loved to laugh and smile carelessly, even in the face of her own suffering.

Sometimes he felt like hurting Chelsie until she built up an immunity to the pain.

But truth be told, he was _afraid_ to hurt Chelsie too much.

It all stemmed from the fact that he did _not_ want her attempting to leave him.

If he harmed her too much, she would find a way to leave; of that, he could be sure.

She was smart - or at least her _Crow_ was - unlike those _other_ girls who made useless, panicked attempts to flee even in the face of their morbid curiosity of the mind of someone they considered completely mad.

Chelsie and Crow _knew_ better; he wasn't crazy, he was just ahead of the curve.

But Chelsie didn't seem impressed by it as Crow was, which both annoyed and intrigued the clown. It was almost as if she knew better - that she had figured out the long-sought meaning of life and wasn't impressed with his "crusade."

It was either that, or she was on a whole new level of apathy that made the illusion of total peace with oneself and the world around them.

Crow was _easy_ to figure out, but Chelsie was an _enigma_ to him.

He really _liked_ the idea that there was someone in Gotham whom he couldn't read like a cheap, drugstore novella. And when he _thought_ he was beginning to figure her out, she flipped the game upside-down. (Case in point, he thought she was completely docile, but she had a tantrum earlier.)

Ocassionally, she read like a Lewis Carroll book of the _Alice In Wonderland_ variety.

At other times, she was more Mark Twain on acid with a twist of nihilism, just like _The Adventures of Mark Twain_ from year nineteen eighty-five.

Then sometimes she seemed content to act like something you'd see from Wes Craven.

Oh, she was _fun_. She was _definitely_ fun.

* * *

Chelsie sat on the bed of her new room, flipping channels on the flat screen TV.

The Joker had left early that morning, telling her he was 'going out on business', the time now being in the afternoon near one o'clock. Luckily, she'd had breakfast, though she was now hungry once more. Service around her current locale really sucked.

Flipping onto a news station, she gasped to see footage of the Ace of Knaves talking to a man dressed up like Batman.

Through the thick fog that covered her mind, she heard enough to know that people were going to start dying every day until the _real_ Batman revealed his secret identity to everyone, including the Joker.

Her thoughts swirled, but were suddenly pulled to the door after a loud beep resounded, signaling that the lock had been deactivated.

Coming into the room was one of the Joker's men, Chelsie blinking only to be replaced by Crow, the woman slowly giving a sly, seductive smile.

"Boss called," the man said in a gruff, deep voice, ignoring her grinning lips. "Sent me t' check on ya - see if ya needed anythin'. So _do_ ya?"

"Well, sugar, other than some lunch since I am _seriously_ starvin', I wouldn't mind some company... if ya know what I mean," she purred and cooed in her gritty tone, winking up at him as she stared into his baby blues.

He stiffened, "Don't think th' Boss would like me touchin' his woman..."

Crow pouted cutely, forcing a longing look to convey from her stormy eyes.

"Boss doesn't need to know about it, now _does_ he, sugarcube?" she asked softly, seduction in her tone. "We'll be done before he even comes _back_, and if you like what you get, we can keep on meeting up all convenient-like, babycakes."

"And I _know_ you'll like what you'll get, honey bunny," added the brunette temptingly, one finely curved eyebrow quirked.

He slowly grinned, lifting his leg without turning around and kicking the door shut.

'_Crow, what are you __**doing**__? Are you __**crazy**__?_' demanded a worried Chelsie. '_The Joker could be back any moment! __**Then**__ we'd be in for it!_'

Crow cackled in their mind as the big, muscle-bound man strode over, '_You really don't __**get**__ it, sweetheart. The Joker, even though it's decidedly a new __**gig**__ for him, isn't the kind of psycho that ever blames the object of his affection of wrong-doin' when it comes to foolin' around with other guys. He'd think the big, burly __**idiot**__ was to blame, even if he heard me __**seducin'**__ the poor sucker._'

The big, burly idiot in question unceremoniously striped down to the bare essential pair of interestingly plaid boxers.

"Ohh, _plaid_," Crow purred, making herself look excited. "Not many men can pull off plaid, but, baby, you do it _well_."

He merely chuckled at the compliment, going over to the bed and crawling over her body.

* * *

By now, Crow was down to only her panties, the burly idiot who said his name was Joe - imagine that! such a plain, average, _boring_ name! - doing some dry grinding against her hips while fondling her breasts.

She acted like his moves were the best she'd ever felt, exaggerating any good feelings his massaging hands and grinding hips gave her.

After all, the most pleasurable place to stroke a man was his ego.

Crow knew that well; it had always calmed down her adorable Scarecrow when she told him how smart he was or how he was just so much stronger than her, holding all the power.

That's what men wanted to know most, Crow had learned; they wanted to know they held all the power in the relationship.

Only men that lived normal, lawful lives or people like _Batman_ would want to know their mates felt things like happiness and bliss from being with them.

Men like big, burly Joe here just wanted power and praise.

Just having a vagina, she realized, was her greatest asset around these thugs and criminal masterminds.

Right now, she was coaxing off Joe's red and green plaid boxers, eventually getting the constraining fabric away from his at attention manhood.

She promptly, with a light touch, grazed her long nails over his shaft, the big man shivering from obvious pleasure.

Oh, how she loved to make even the biggest, toughest ones quake from a simple touch.

The truth, she reasoned, was that _she_ had all the power.

Her hand clasping around his dick, she went to work at jacking him off, careful not to scratch with her long nails.

All the while, he groaned and moaned, and as she predicted in her head from the start, he didn't last long as she seemed to know every inch that elicited the most pleasure.

But before he could hit his release, she released him with a plop, the man groaning in protest.

Startling them both, however, a familiar beep resounded in the room, Joe's head turning to the door in terror.

"Oh, _shit_," was all he could say before the door opened.

The Joker stood there, and upon seeing one of his men on top of his woman, he did _not_ look very happy.

But Crow simply smiled, not minding that they were caught in the _least_.

* * *

Surprisingly, the Joker had managed to jerk the burly idiot off of a topless Crow, dragging him out by a mere fistful of his short hair until they made it to the hallway.

Meanwhile, Crow simply got dressed, clasping her bra, slipping on her tops, then getting up and tugging on her black jeans.

All the while, she listened to the two.

"Can _explain_, Boss!" Joe shouted frantically, stammering before spitting out his explanation. "Woman tried t' _seduce_ me!"

The Joker had said nothing to that accusation, Crow noted, before terrible screams filled the bedroom and hall.

She poked her head out, looking to the dead end of the hall to the right.

Apparently, the clown had haphazardly removed Joe's dick with nothing but a pocketknife, her nose scrunching with disgust. She hadn't realized that was even _possible_ in such short a time.

Finished with his work, he then pulled out a gun, promptly shooting Joe in his big, thick skull, killing him off and ending his gut-wrenching screams of agony.

"You didn't have to go all Lorena Bobbit on his _dick_, ya know," Crow commented, looking at the bloody mess and clicking her tongue with a shake of her head.

She then slipped back into her room, plopping on the bed with a satisfied smile, crossing her legs and clasping her hands behind her head.

Crow was pleased as punch with the little bit of action she'd gotten before the Clown Prince interrupted her fun, her foot shaking to an unheard beat as she sighed contently.

* * *

The Joker's hand that held the gun still in the air finally fell.

'_She seduced him. My Crow. She was jus-__**t**__ playing. She always plays,_' the clown assured himself, pocketing his shotgun. '_She never loves 'em, uh.. no, no, no. She loves __**me**__. She __**real**__-ly loves me._'

In a happier mood at his own reassuring thoughts, he headed to the bedroom and found Crow waiting on the bed patiently.

He shut the door and locked it. The mess would be dealt with later.

"I saw the video you made on the news," Crow mentioned conversationally. "I almost felt _sorry_ for the Batman-wannabe."

"I oughta watch the news more often; it's finally gettin' _interestin'_," she added with an amused giggle.

The Joker merely grinned, taking off the purple jacket of his suit and throwing it over a nearby chair.

"It's just, uh... _beginning_, dollfac-_e_," he assured her before plopping onto the bed beside her, Crow laughing as the bed jostled her around from his impact.

He kicked off his shoes effortlessly, back leaning against his pillows which were propped up against the wall.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** And now for the Wayne party scene. Wee!

Also, to Cybernetic Mango, who reviewed with "...Disturbingly cute.": Thanks. That was kinda what I was going for. xD

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven - Payback's a Bitch**

* * *

The next day, Crow and Chelsie were pleasantly surprised when the Clown decided she was to attend the crashing of Wayne's party for Harvey Dent.

The Joker had reasoned jokingly that he should bring a date.

Whatever the reason, Crow was _thrilled_; she would have a chance at possibly meeting up with the Batboy to see him in action. Maybe then, if she was lucky, she might be able to escape the Clown, but that would remain to be seen. She could only pull off her solo flight at the opportune moment and no sooner than that.

Before they left, Crow in her usual outfit and wearing her beak, an odd occurrence happened.

The Clown gave the bird girl a little weapon of which he said might come in handy.

It was a taser, and as to how it would come in handy, when she had asked, he'd only winked and kept his thoughts a secret.

Regardless, she had kept the object; obviously, the Clown Prince knew something she _didn't_.

And, eventually, they - the Joker, Crow and various henchmen of his - were in a lift headed up to Wayne's no doubt _snazzy_ pad.

* * *

The lift opened, Detective Weurtz - some guy Crow knew nothing of - holding up his badge.

Behind him, of course, was Gotham's Prince of Psychos, the Joker smashing the man over the head once they were beckoned in by Wayne's butler.

The Clown then stepped over him, officially commencing the crashing of Wayne's little party.

"Good evenin-_g_, ladies and gentlemen!" the Joker greeted Wayne's party-goers as he stepped out of the lift.

Crow strutted out from behind where the Clown had once stood, his henchmen filing out around her, a particular pair staying close by. Of course, Crow could only _assume_ the Joker had ordered one or two clown-masked men to stay on her feathery tail like bodyguards.

Her eyes shifting all about at the well-to-do Gothamites that surrounded herself, the Joker and his henchmen, Crow's head cocked in a bird-like manner as she observed the obvious fear on their faces.

'_**Imagine**__, sweetheart,_' began the bird girl inwardly,'_if __**I**__ could someday instill such magnificent __**fear**__ in the hearts of Gothamites._'

"We are... tonigh-_t_'s entertainment," Crow heard the Clown Prince announce, but she wasn't watching him now.

Crow stayed still, looking about herself boredly. Why she had been invited on this little run was beyond her, but she was grateful enough to have been released from her bedroom prison for however long her captor would allow. Not to mention how she might catch sight of the Batman. And the Clown's little taser offering obviously meant she'd find some use for it tonight.

With a bored countenance, her stormy gaze trailed the patrons at the back near the lift, the bird girl knowing to keep away from the Joker when he was talking "business." And talking he _was_, but she drowned it out. Instead, she picked out a handsome face and skipped over to the owner.

"_Hello_ there," she purred in her scratchy tone, her victim shivering.

Maybe he recognized her from her old videos, she assumed.

Walking around him, her hand lifted, nails trailing at his neck.

"My, you're a _pretty_ one," crooned the bird girl.

He was handsome, having short, brown hair and bright blue eyes.

_However_, he reminded her just a little too _much_ of Jonny boy and his Scarecrow, such causing her to scowl up at him.

"You _know_, sugarcube," the brunette said to him, nails digging into his throat and cutting the flesh to leave trickles of crimson blood, "you _remind_ me of someone - someone who owes me a great _deal_ for keepin' his li'l business afloat - someone who's bein' a li'l _stubborn_ _bastard_ and waitin' for me to save him from his _prison_ - someone I'm real _pissed_ at."

In the background, the blackbird heard a new voice, decidedly female.

"Okay, stop," demanded that female voice.

Crow turned her sights farther down the room and away from the trembling man, her nails retracting their pressure from his throat to his great relief, the bird girl distracted.

She looked the woman who had spoken to the Clown up and down, wondering who she was.

Even _that_ woman reminded her of someone she'd only _heard_ about.

The Joker released an old gentlemen he had a grip on, one hand brandishing a knife as usual.

He faced the brunette woman, "Well, _hello_, beautiful."

If Crow had really _cared_ for the Clown, she might have been jealous at his greeting toward the pretty brunette interloper. In _reality_, she didn't _give_ a damn.

Walking toward her, the Joker brushed back strings of his greasy hair with the hand that held tight his knife.

"You must be Harvey's squeez-_e_," the Clown concluded as he walked up to her.

'_Crow,_' Chelsie began softly within, '_isn't Harvey Dent's lover... __**Rachel Dawes**__?_'

The bird girl growled, now recognizing the pretty little miss.

Forgetting the henchmen - forgetting the _Joker_ - she began a very slow stalk over to where they stood.

"And you _are_ beautiful," Crow vaguely heard the psychotic Clown say as he moved around Miss Dawes, the woman flinching away. "Oh, you look nervousss."

"Is it the _scars_?" he questioned her, not noticing of the bird girl's slow approach. "You wanna know how I _got_ 'em?"

Crow paused in mid step, foot slowly hitting the ground. She would let the Clown have his fun telling his little story, but then she would confront the little bitch _herself_.

The Joker gripped Dawes' face, forcing her to look as him as he began his story, the blackbird barely listening. It was, she recognized vaguely, what had to be another fictional story about a beautiful wife who worried too much or some such nonsense as that.

The blackbird cared not for his multiple choice past and theatrical story-telling flair. Her blood boiled and ached to finally reach the woman and exact some much deserved revenge.

Eventually, the little woman punched the Joker in the gut, to which he replied in favor of the act.

Crow rolled her stormy eyes, stalking forth once more. Like punching that guy did _anything_ effective; she should know.

The Batman was nearby, but before he could pounce on the Clown, another party crasher skipped over to Dawes, stepping in the Joker's path.

"_You_," snarled the blackbird, one long nail flicking at the woman accusingly. "_You're_ Rachel Dawes, _hm_?"

The Clown watched the bird, interested. He knew _exactly_ what would follow.

"Do I _know_ you?" Rachel questioned, taking a step back from Crow.

"Oh, _no_. No, you _don't_," answered Crow, her head tilting yet again like her namesake. "But you knew my _Jonny_..."

"_Jonny_?" asked the other woman, unknowing of whom the bird girl was speaking.

"Oh, _yes_. Yes, you _did_," Crow assured her. "You see, you tasered him in the _face_..."

The bird stepped closer to Dawes, "Does that... ring a _bell_, angelcakes?"

The Bat held back, watching the brunette dressed in black who wore a black beak on her face. Vaguely, her recognized her from news videos of bombings as the same woman who had wanted to meet him face-to-face.

Dawes blinked, inquiring, "Jonathan Crane?"

"Ding! Ding! We have a _winner_!" retorted Crow loudly, her hand discreetly slipping to a toy she'd most curiously been given by the Clown.

Said Clown noticed, having heard the story of Rachel Dawes and the Scarecrow from the bird girl herself. He had thought something like this might happen. She wanted a little revenge. And as long as the blackbird was satisfied, so was he.

"And _now_," began the bird with a grin, her hand yanking the device from her pocket, "for something _completely different_!"

In one swift move, she lifted the taser and shot the electricity in Dawe's face, the woman screaming hellishly and clattering to the floor, the blackbird shutting off the device.

The hiding Bat growled low to himself, but paused from interfering. He was too late to intervene against that sudden attack.

Bending at the waist and stalking over to Dawes with her arms outstretched behind her like a bird, Crow muttered, head cocked to the side as she inquired, "Payback's a _bitch_, _isn't it_?"

Laughing maniacally, she then lifted at the waist and took off, arms still out like wings, Crow making her way back to the other side of the room with a satisfied expression, then spinning around to watch the Clown, arms slowly falling to her sides.

The Clown watched her "fly" off happily, but was suddenly attacked from behind, the Bat taking his chance.

Crow stood stock-still, watching the Bat fight the Clown in a mesmerized state.

'_**Finally**__ we see the Batboy, sweetheart,_' Crow muttered in their mind, now ever more delighted. '_And it makes me wonder how he made it into the buildin'... It would be convenient if, __**as you suggested**__, he was __**actually**__... __**Bruce Wayne**__._'

Of course, henchmen intervened, her own two standing ever closer to her protectively.

She simply watched, fascinated. The Bat's fighting was a lot like she'd heard from henchmen who had unfortunately faced off against him, but fortunately lived to tell the tale.

Crow grinned once the Joker had Dawes in his grip, a gun to her head moments before he busted a window and held her dangerously out of it.

"Let her go," ordered the Bat in his customary rasp, Crow stalking closer.

"Very poor choice of words," returned the Clown who dropped her.

Crow jumped and clapped excitedly, then watched as the Bat leapt out after her heroically.

'_Suspect number two is now on our list, sweetheart,_' announced the bird within.

'_**Who**__?_' asked Crow's host, excited despite herself.

'_Did you see the way that Bat flew after her? __**Harvey Dent**__ is suspect number __**two**__,_' Crow pointed out for her slower half with a grin.

"I should come on these outtin's more often," the blackbird announced happily to the silent room.

And before she knew it, she, the Joker and the rest of the posse were making their getaway.

No, she hadn't escaped her captor, but Crow had watched the Bat fight and exacted revenge on Miss Dawes on behalf of her Jonny and his Scarecrow. Needless to _say_, she was satisfied.

And, needless to say, this pleased the Clown.

He hadn't found Dent, true enough, but he'd found a loved one.

At the same time, his bird girl had been allowed to exact her revenge thanks to his thoughtful suppliance of his taser gift and she would no doubt be _pleased_ with him.

* * *

Whenever it was that night in which they returned to the Joker's hideout, Crow was led back to her room and locked in alone until later when the Joker had cleaned himself up a smidge. After all, his face had been bloodied.

He walked in to find her sitting on the bed, flipping the taser in her hand with a wide grin on her pink lips.

"Now I know why you gave me the taser," she commented happily, impressed by the gesture, then thanked him appropriately. "Muchas gracias."

"De nada," he replied, apparently familiar with not only Japanese but _Spanish_ as well, the Clown grinning as he took off his purple jacket and tossed it over a chair.

"But you didn't find Dent. That's a shame," mused the bird girl, a smile then creeping up upon her lips as he jumped onto the mattress, sitting beside her. "But, with the way he threw himself _after_ her, you'd think the Bat... had some _attachment_ to her. _As if_... he might be Mr. Dent."

Her gaze trailed to the Clown whose countenance was suddenly thoughtful.

'_Why are you giving him a __**hint**__, Crow?_' asked Chelsie, the host confused by her motives.

'_Call it a mutual scratchin' of __**backs**__, sweetheart; he gave me the means to take my revenge, so I gave him my second suspect,_' explained the blackbird, gaze leaving the contemplative countenance of the Clown. '_It's only __**fair**__ and this means I don't __**owe**__ the Clown for his act of obvious of affection. God forbid we __**owe**__ the guy somethin'._'


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** Another one done. Whoo! It's kinda long. R&R whether you like it or hate it.

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Twelve - Catalyst**

* * *

Two days later, Crow and Chelsie were left to their own devices again. The Clown had vaguely mentioned something about leaving a scene for the police as a little warning clue.

Also, he had deemed her worthy to traverse his hideout freely - probably in thanks of the little Harvey Dent hint - and left the bedroom door unlocked, ordering his henchmen to let her go free.

Of course, he warned her at knife point that should she run off, he would find her and bring her back.

This newfound freedom led to her current situation which was knowingly being monitored by the Clown who had returned from his venture.

* * *

Crow smirked up at the muscled thug, "Why not spend a little time with _Crow_, daddy? You're workin' _reeeal_ hard for such a slave-grinder. You need some time off for some _fun_, and I'm the funnest thing _around_, sugarcube."

The man chuckled, hand resting to the wall beside her, pinning her there as if he had all the power.

She smiled her best seductive grin, attempting to lure him in for the pounce - the final kill where she got him hooked.

"Who's ta say tha Boss won't find out, girlie?" he questioned, looking intrigued for the answer.

"'The Boss'," she said in mock allegiance with air quotes, "is not _around_, honey bunny, and he said somethin' about not being back for a few _hours_ when he left."

She conveniently left out the parts about how he left a long time ago and how his exact words were that he "_probably_" wouldn't be back for a few hours. More conveniently, she didn't inform him that said boss was _watching_.

The man bought it, too; she could tell from the lust-driven look in his eyes.

"You really think you can _handle_ me, sweetheart?" he asked in what she assumed was his attempt at sounding sexy, but he only sounded slightly drunk.

She gauged him quickly, summing up his particular needs and replying accordingly.

"I'm a big _girl_, daddy," Crow assured him, then threw on the innocent, pleading eyes. "But try not to hurt me up _too_ bad, sugar, 'cause I'm delicate."

He bought it with a feral grin, the hand on the wall moving to bury into her brown tresses.

* * *

The Joker watched them darkly, listening to the words exchanged as he tossed around his favored knife.

'_**My**__ Crow. My playful, playful Crow,_' he thought, watching her visage intensely. '_Doesn't want him. Doesn't need him. Manipulate. Cat and mouse._'

The thug's hand left the wall to delve into her hair, the clown releasing a low growl, hand gripping the handle of his knife tightly until his knuckles were a ghostly white.

* * *

Crow wrapped her arms around the thug's neck, hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist in one swift, fluid motion.

His hands immediately fell to her hips in compliance, his coffee-scented breath hitting her nose in waves.

It was better than _most_ men's breaths at least.

"Take me wherever you _want_ me, babycakes," she hissed and purred, inviting him to do as he saw fit with her.

Looking for the closest spot of some creature comfort, he took her to the beat up couch, actually placing her back to the seats with care.

He was kind of different - kind of _weird_ for a thug.

Crow _liked_ it, but knew the Joker would probably kill him before they got anywhere _near_ removing the confinement of their fabrics.

* * *

'_Why do you __**do**__ this, Crow? Why do you let the Joker kill off his men like this, all because of __**you**__?_' Chelsie asked worriedly, finally intervening.

'_Sweetheart, it's pretty damn __**funny**__, and I'm waitin' to see what J'll do when he can't take it anymore. He's actin' __**reeeeal**__ patient, though..._' replied Crow, almost irritated that the Ace of Knaves hadn't simply turned on her yet.

Meanwhile, Joker's man crawled over her on the creaky couch, Crow's intense and inviting gaze never leaving his hazel pools.

'_You __**want**__ that psychopath to be pissed at you?!_' screamed the host, completely flabbergasted.

'_I want him to think he's not in __**love**__ with us, ya know?_' asked Crow impatiently.'_It's all a part of my master __**plan**__, sweetheart. Once the clown sees we're no angel to obsess over, he'll set us free, 'cause I know he can't __**kill**__ us. He doesn't got any empathy, but he's got the desire to keep us around for the sheer __**entertainment**__ we readily supply._'

'_So sit back, sweetheart, and let me work my magic,_' Crow said with finality in her tone.

* * *

Before the thug could start off with the desired kiss to her lips, he was torn away, thrown aside and promptly shot in the head all in a matter of seconds.

Crow snapped exaggeratedly, the Clown watching her with a guarded gaze.

"That one would've been a good ride," she lamented with a pout.

Her eyes then rolled skyward as she shrugged, "Guess I should have told him when you _left_."

Crow giggled, hopping up from the couch and strutting off like she owned the place, and she practically _did_ with the Joker wrapped around her little finger.

* * *

The Joker watched her strut off into the hall carelessly as he put away the shotgun.

He looked back at the bloody mess. If he kept shooting his men like this, he'd be out of thugs pretty quick according to how many times Crow got "playful."

* * *

A few days later - how many days it was slipping past Crow/Chelsie - the Joker went out again. He yet again vaguely explained his errand, saying it was to kill the Mayor, although he added that the Mayor might not actually _die_. He had then muttered that he was sort of _counting_ on that outcome.

Crow didn't question him; she wasn't concerned with his goals and day-time outings. The only thing that concerned her were his _nighttime_ errands. Nighttime was, after all, when the big, bad Bat came out of its cave.

In his absence, she picked a naive thug and seduced him and repeated the process until the Clown came back and found them, killing his henchman.

Still, the Joker didn't break and Crow wondered when he finally would.

* * *

A day later, the Joker found his bird girl with a thug again, repeating the process of killing another one off.

Finally annoyed enough to take the situation into his own hands, he had called her from her room and into the nearby "living room" of sorts where all his men had been gathered.

All the men took a collective step back when Crow entered the room.

Left on his own, the Joker was more likely not to kill a thug, but if one so much as _looked_ at Crow the wrong way, they'd be shot to hell.

Crow giggled at their pallid faces, rocking on her heels before them; she knew what the Joker was doing and was happy he was finally taking some kind of action. It meant she was breaking him down, or so she _believed_.

"No one wants to play with _Crow_?" she asked with a saddened tone, making puppy-dog eyes at the thugs.

With careless abandon, she danced around them, flaunting her power by proxy of the Joker's possessive attitude.

"Which one, ah... which _ones_ do you _like_, dollfac-_e_?" the Joker finally asked, cheerful at the prospect of getting them all out of the way and pulling out a gun.

The men all froze, terrified to be the unlucky bastard she chose.

Crow crooned as she danced about them, "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..."

One of the men just broke down, "Come on! Stop killin' us _off_, you crazy bitch! I can't _take_ it no more!"

Crow skipped over to the crying man, then side-stepped and pointed at him, "I like _this_ one!"

One, two, three, and he was dead with a gunshot to the head.

The brunette looked down at the mess, tsking.

"They all _bleed_ so much," she almost chided the dead man's body, Crow only saying it to elicit fear in the men that she was crazier than they thought the _Joker_ to be.

She looked around, humming a made-up tune, then shrugged defeatedly, "I like them _all_. They're _all_ so fun!"

The Joker smiled as he watched her happily dance out of the room, heading back to their bedroom through the hall.

When she was out of his sight, he looked around at his men.

"Touch her, boys-_uh_... and you get a bulle-_t_ to the hea-_d_," he finally outwardly warned, getting tired of having to waste his men, especially when she could always pick out the best ones.

Waving his gun to emphasize the point, he turned on his heel and stalked after Crow.

* * *

He hid away the weapon before walking into their shared room, finding her on the bed.

"Crow, Crow, Crow," he muttered, licking his lips, shaking his head. "You just can't-_uh_ stop _playin-__**g**_ with them, hm?"

"I could, if I _reeeeally_ wanted to," the woman confessed with a smile. "But they're _sooo_ much fun!"

Within their brain, Chelsie sighed, resigned to this foolish game; nothing could deter Crow from her plans, however useless they were proving to be.

Crow, on the other hand, realized the Joker was wearing down; she could see it in his eyes.

He walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of the foot of it, leaning his arms against his knees.

"Why can't you just come to me for _tha-__**t**_, _hm_?" he asked, running a hand through his greasy hair.

"I like variety," she explained simply with a little shrug as she casually picked up a magazine on the nightstand. "It's the spice of life."

When he finally turned around and ripped the magazine away, throwing it across the room, Crow grinned up at him excitedly.

This was the fit she was _looking_ for.

"_Listen_," he hissed, pouncing forward and pinning her in her sitting position. "You. Belong. To _me_."

"Stop toying around, _hm_? Stop _playin-__**g**_," he ordered, growling as he looked down at her. "I don't _like_ it, sweetie."

"_Bu-__**t**_," he added, slipping away to sit beside her at the edge of the bed, "you won'-_t _listen... and I can't hur-_t_ ya... so I'll just, uh.. have to keep _killing_ 'em 'till you _do_."

Crow sighed, mentioning, "You _used_ to hurt me. Why can't you hurt me anymore?"

She looked at him expectantly.

He grinned, staring off ahead of himself, "Love ya too much, angel fac-_e_. I don'-_t_ want you _dy_-ing on me, or running away-_uh_. I nee-_d_ ya."

Truth be told, it was the prior scare of almost having killed her that changed his methods.

Turning his head, the Joker looked into her eyes, "You're my thir-_d_ obsession, sweet cheeks. You're my catalyst."

Crow blinked, repeating questioningly, "Catalyst?"

"_Yeah_, petit ange," returned the clown, moving to his side of the bed then looking back ahead as he crossed his legs and entwined his fingers behind his head. "You ignite _ev_erythin-_g_."

"From the moment-_uh_ that I _saw_ ya in the videosss, I knew you were per-fec-_t_," he admitted, slipping out his beloved knife to toy with.

"Perfect for _what_?" she asked exasperatedly, sighing deeply.

Getting clear answers out of him took an act of congress, which was an ironic statement in relation to an anarchist.

"A per-fec-_t_ reason," he clarified, as if it made anything clear to the brunette beside him. "I never, uh... knew I _needed_ the kinda motivation you give a guy, babydoll."

Crow let her head fall back, striking the wall, "A reason for _what_ exactly?"

"A reason... to change the worl-_d_," he finally answered directly, looking over to her with a grin.

Her eyebrow quirked as she looked at him, the clown laughing at her expression which he found cute.

When he stopped cackling, his head fell back as he watched her, "I'll change the worl-_d_ for ya."

Crow blinked at him, then looked forward, contemplating all he'd said.

For someone like the Joker, saying all of that was like confessing his eternal love in the most _romantic_ of ways. Yeah, for the _Joker_, this would be as romantic as he could _get_.

Surprisingly, when the weight of his words hit her, she felt a warmth in her chest she'd never felt before.

Crow suddenly felt guilty for making him watch her traipse about with all his thugs.

She hadn't thought the Joker capable of strong feelings for _anyone_, but he apparently really did have them for her and her host.

It wasn't fairy-tale love - it wasn't even _normal_ love - but it was a kind of love he had invented, much like he invented his persona from one minute to the next.

And, apparently, he was actually _dedicated_ to it.

He may haven been possessive, obsessive and jealous, but she could now confidently say he loved her, and despite herself, that actually _meant_ something to her.

But did she love _him_? Or did she love her Scarecrow and his Jonathan?

She was dedicated to her Scarecrow, but she admired the Joker.

Why was love so damned complicated?


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** It's finally gettin' good, but it's also nearing the ending. After this is the epilogue. :(

But, never fear! There's a third fic in the works which _should_ be the last. (I don't have it totally planned out yet.)

I'll tell you the name of the next fic in the epilogue.

As always, review!

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen - Gettin' Good**

* * *

Days later, Chelsie and Crow were watching a televised press conference with the Joker as they sat in their shared bedroom and on the bed. In the flurry of events, Harvey Dent announced himself as the Batman.

Crow blinked Chelsie away and looked to the excited Clown.

"It's not _him_, shug. He's just takin' the fall like a _good_ li'l soldier," Crow announced, eyes then shifting back to the TV. "_No_, there's something _fishy_ goin' on..."

She huffed a laugh, "If I got _outta_ this place more often, I might know what the hell's goin' _on_ out there..."

"Well, dollfac-_e_, you migh-_t_ be _wrong_ this time," the Clown finally commented, turning off the flat-screen TV. "Remember how the Bat flew after her? _I_ say, it migh-_t_ be the White Knigh-_t_."

The bird girl grinned, gaze turning to the Joker, "How much you wanna _bet_ on that, sweetums?"

He returned the grin, "Set the _stakes_, angelfac-_e_."

"Five k says Dent's not the Bat," suggested Crow, still grinning.

"You're _on_," agreed the Clown, the pair shaking on it.

* * *

And soon enough, the Joker was attacking Dent's ride to County.

Meanwhile, the bird girl waited in her bed, reading a magazine. She didn't feel like fucking around, only wanting to get news of whatever happened outside of the old factory from the Clown Prince.

'_If you believe Dent isn't our suspect, then do you believe it's __**Bruce Wayne**__?_' asked Chelsie from within.

'_Sweetheart, I believe that __**anythin'**__ is possible,_' Crow returned with a grin. '_I __**also**__ believe that the Joker's li'l game is goin' to wind him up in prison 'cause he has vague plans to go there out of a buncha foreseeable options. Where the mad dog's two steps ahead, I've already leapt by __**three**__... I'm not __**smarter**__ than the guy, I'll grant, but I've had more time to think this through._'

'_How did you come to the conclusion that the "__**mad dog**__," as you call him, is going to __**prison**__? I don't even--_'

'_Chels, you're not the __**brains**__ of this outfit,_' Crow cut her off. '_Let __**me**__ do the thinkin' while you sit back and be my good __**luck**__ charm, __**okay**__, sweetheart?_'

Chelsie sighed inwardly and resigned herself to being Crow's personal rabbit's foot.

* * *

That night, while attacking the convoy carrying Dent, the Batmobile appeared and the Joker marveled. It could have been _anyone_. Only _later_ did the Bat appear on his pod, providing evidence that Dent was _not_ the Batman.

In the midst of the chaos, the Clown had enough time for one thought to his bird girl.

'_Ah, Crow. You __**win**__, dollfac-__**e**__,_' he managed to think before getting down to business.

* * *

Soon enough, with her TV flipped onto GCN, a breaking news alert interrupted Crow's attempt at reading a magazine.

She looked up to hear a report that the Clown Prince was caught.

"_Finally_," Crow muttered, throwing down the magazine and hopping up off the bed.

'_Where are we __**going**__, Crow?_' a curious Chelsie questioned within.

"_We_, sweetheart, _are goin'_," she began aloud, pausing for effect, "to the library."

'_It's still __**nighttime**__, you know,_' Chelsie pointed out.

"It is? _Huh_. No windows," the bird girl explained, then took off out the bedroom door, outwardly humming a familiar tune in between her words. "We'll just camp out at the place 'till they open. But first we'll stop off at the apartment and pocket our library card in case they ask for it."

Chelsie sighed, pressing for information as Crow made her way through the building, '_Why are we going to the __**library**__ again?_'

Now replying within as she passed some clown thugs, still humming outwardly, the blackbird answered impatiently, '_We're gonna look up all the news papers and internet information there is on your Bruce Wayne suspect. We'll be lookin' specifically for anythin' like a disappearance from Gotham - such as a paper purportin' the playboy's miraculous return from bein' all MIA for a year or two or three._'

'_That's __**all**__ we're looking for?_' the host asked incredulously.

'_It's a __**start**__, sweetheart; the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,_' Crow purported some fortune cookie wisdom, making her way out the front door.

Breaking into a van, she hot wired it and promptly stole it, driving off to their apartment as she hummed Diana Krall's version of Bye Bye Blackbird once more.

* * *

Stopping off at their shared apartment, Crow changed her clothes to Chelsie's old standard wardrobe, throwing her costume into a garbage bag.

She also picked up their library card and raided a secret stash of hidden cash for emergencies.

Items in her pockets, the bird girl threw the garbage bag over her shoulder and made her way out.

When stopped by the landlord during her flight downstairs, she was able to hand over the overdue rent and paid ahead for two years straight only because she was packing some pretty big bills in her pocket.

The landlord was curious and suspicious, but let her go freely; the old woman had too much money in her grubby hand to look a gift bird in the mouth.

Eventually, Crow had driven them to the library and there they waited in the van for the next day when it would open, the car radio on and playing some CDs she found.

They sang along with Bad Religion and The Loved Ones as they patiently waited.

* * *

When morning came and the eventual event of the library opening its doors arrived, Crow led them both in the building and slipped them to the front desk.

She got the okay to go on a computer and as soon as she had Google up, she searched keywords of "Bruce Wayne," "Gotham City," "disappearance" and "reappearance."

Easily, she found an online site with old Gotham articles, an entire page story dedicated to the return of Bruce Wayne to Gotham City.

'_Look at the __**screen**__, sweetheart,_' Crow pointed out, Chelsie looking through their shared stormy eyes.

After she read the page, Chelsie marveled, '_Maybe I was actually __**right**__..._'

Bringing up a new tab, Crow searched Google for a date of Batman's first appearance in Gotham City, eventually finding a page about his offical arrival. She matched it up to the time Wayne returned and found the distance not too far apart.

All she needed _now_ was some information on _Rachel Dawes_, the thought of said woman causing Crow to wear a grin, her recent tasering of the woman's pretty little face in mind.

That information, however, was harder to come by, but she eventually found a shocking mention that read, "Rachel Dawes, childhood friend of billionaire Bruce Wayne."

On a pad of paper supplied by the library with a pen as well, Crow wrote down her findings and the consequent website addresses.

'_This is proof __**enough**__, sweetheart, that your billionaire suspect is, __**undeniably**__, our Batboy,_' Crow reasoned. '_This information was so easy to pull together as long as you knew where to connect the dots... It's surprisin' no one __**else**__ has made these connections, but I guess no one thinks quite like __**you and I**__, sweetheart._'

'_Yes, but now what will we __**do**__ with this information, Crow?_' inquired the other half thoughtfully.

'_We could give it to the Clown once he busts out, but all he wants is __**anarchy**__ and __**chaos**__,_' reasoned the bird girl as she leaned back in her chair before the computer. '_**Or**__, we could take the path less trod and give our information to Jonny boy and his Scarecrow. What __**they**__ would do with it is a real stumper. Or there's option __**three**__ of keepin' it to ourselves until the opportune moment..._'

'_So __**now**__ what do we do, Crow?_'

Crow grinned and closed her browsers, then tore her sheet of information from the pad, minding to rip away all sheets containing an indent impression of the information. She then ripped three more past that point for good measure, stuffing the useless pages in her pocket before folding the useful one carefully and gently pocketing it in a back pocket.

'_**Now**__, sweetheart, we go back to the apartment,_' Crow told her counterpart simply.

'_**Why**__?_' Chelsie asked, not following on her reasoning.

The bird girl sighed as she walked through the library, heading towards the front doors.

'_We need to put back the clothes I'm wearin' and then put on our costume, for starters,_' began the blackbird in her patient explanation. '_**Next**__, we shred the pages with residue of our information in that nifty shredder we bought for gettin' rid of important documents. Then we put back what I took of our cash stash. Then we put back our library card. And __**lastly**__, we place our piece of paper with information and the website addresses into our hidden safe behind the flat-screen TV._'

'_**Then**__ what?_' asked the host.

'_We go back to the Joker's hideout and __**wait**__._'

'_For __**what**__?_' Chelsie pressed on.

'_For more news on the __**Clown**__, __**of course**__,_' snapped the bird girl impatiently. '_We'll keep the news station on twenty-four-seven, sweetheart._'

* * *

Parking the van where she found it, Crow got out of it and walked back to the old factory hideout. She had stopped off at their apartment and carried out her business, changing back into her costume.

She walked in and through corridors, passing thugs who probably didn't even know the Joker had been captured and probably didn't care that she'd even left.

The bird girl stayed silent all the way to her and the Clown Prince's bedroom, Crow walking in and shutting the door.

'_Aren't you __**hungry**__? It's been a long time,_' pointed out the host.

'_How can you think of food at a time like __**this**__?_' demanded the blackbird before she sighed deeply. '_I __**swear**__, sweetheart, you're really __**unique**__._'

Flopping onto her side of the bed, the bird girl grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV to the news station. GCN, of course.

* * *

Eventually, a program with Mark Engel came on and caught Crow's attention.

"_...he's a credible source; an A and M lawyer for a prestigious consultancy. He says he's waited as long as he can for the Batman to do the right thing..._"

The shot cut to a little man who nodded before Engel spoke once more.

"_Now he's taking matters into his own hands. We'll be live at five with the true identity of the Batman. Stay with us..._"

"_Son-of-a-bitch_!" shouted the bird in outrage. "You mean some fuckin' _twit_ got to it _before_ us?"

Her nostrils flared under her beak as she looked away from the TV.

"_No way_," she muttered. "No fuckin' _way_."

* * *

The program eventually went on, Engel taking calls on air as Mr. Reese, the little twit in question, had a confident air about him that pricked at Crow's nerves.

A caller then spoke, "_I wanna know how much they're gonna __**pay**__ you to say who Batman really is._"

Crow snorted.

"_That's simply __**not**__ why I'm doing this,_" insisted Reese, Crow snorting again in an unflattering manner.

Clearly, the bird girl was _pissed_.

"_Caller, you're on the air,_" Engel spoke.

"_**Harvey Dent**__ didn't want us to give in to this maniac,_" the new caller pointed out. "_You think you know better than __**him**__?_"

"If the little bastard has _Batman's_ identity, ten to one he knows better than _any_ of you li'l shits," Crow retorted at the TV in her deep anger.

Engel replied, "_Guy's got a point; Dent didn't want Batman to give himself up. Is this the right thing to do?_"

"_If we could talk to Dent __**now**__, he might feel differently--_" Reese tried.

"_And we wish him a speedy recovery,_" said the newsman. "_God knows we need him now. Let's take another call._"

An old lady's voice came on air, "_Mr. Reese, what's more valuable: __**one**__ life, or a __**hundred**__?_"

Crow cocked a brow, staring at the television intently.

"_I guess it would depend on the life,_" Reese answered as best he could.

The old lady replied, "_Okay. Let's say it's __**your**__ life. Is it worth more than the lives of several hundred others?_"

"_Of __**course**__ not,_" replied the little man.

The bird girl watched in fascination, an inkling as to the caller's identity in her mind.

"_I'm glad you feel that way, because I've put a bomb in one of the city's hospitals,_" announced the caller, Crow suddenly grinning from ear to ear, her inkling justified. "_It's going off in sixty minutes unless someone __**kills**__ you._"

Engel immediately questioned, "_Who __**is**__ this?_"

"_Just a concerned citizen,_" the old lady's voice began before dropping pitch to reveal the Joker's unmistakable tone, "_an-__**d**__ regular guy._"

After that, the Clown went on about a vision of a world without Batman, but Crow tuned it out.

"_Hey_," Crow started. "He managed not to _talk_ funny for a few minutes!"

Chelsie slapped herself mentally, '_That's not important! He's gonna blow up a hospital unless someone kills __**Reese**__!_'

"Well, whatdaya want _me_ to do about it, go out there and try to _assassinate_ him?" questioned the bird out loud with annoyance. "No, thanks! I'd rather see a hospital go _boom_, sweetheart!"

'_**Harvey Dent **__is in a __**hospital**__, Crow! Ten to one, the Joker--_'

"Ten to one, the Joker _knows_ which hospital Dent's in, sweetheart, and if he decides to blow _that_ one, he'll get Dent outta there 'cause he can _use_ the guy. After all, we _both_ know the Joker set it up so Miss Dawes would _die_, a fate neither of us lament," interrupted the blackbird. "Now calm yourself _down_, sweetheart; things are just gettin' _good_."


	15. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.

* * *

**A/N:** This skips past a lot of events to the end where the Joker is finally caught. (Remember? Where he's just... _hangin' around_? Yeah.) From there, you are to assume the Clown went to Arkham.

This is the epilogue and a third installment of the series is next.

It shall be known as _Poker Face_.

* * *

**Queen Takes Pawn**

_**by Syrenia**_

* * *

**Epilogue - One Option **

* * *

In a few days time, it was the _end_ of the game; the Joker was caught, sent to Arkham and such was announced on the news.

"I don't think _that_ was in his vague li'l plans, sweetheart," Crow told her host before popping her lips, at a sudden loss for words.

* * *

Of _all_ the things Crow thought about the Clown - such as that he was a psychotic, possessive, brilliant and admirable being of _god-like_ proportions sent to earth as a deity of _discordance_, _chaos_ and _anarchy_, for starters - she had never _thought_ of the mind-blowing possibility that he would _fail_ in his epic quest to show the Gothamites their own true colors and the reality of the world.

It was simply _mind-boggling_ that the Clown Prince of Psychos had lost the battle.

However, she reasoned, he had _not_ lost the _war_.

And, _oh_, if she gave the Clown the Bat's true identity, the man would _surely_ win the war.

That thought _alone_ was very persuasive to the bird girl, but she decided not to jump the gun. She had to be calm, cool and collected; she had to keep a hold of her valuable information until the time was undeniably right for it to be revealed to the most deserving party.

She was in no hurry; she could wait and plot and watch the world as it believed it was a _little_ bit safer with the Joker behind bars.

How _wrong_ the world was! How wrong _Gotham_ was!

Gotham was not _safe_; it would _never_ be safe, especially if _she_ had anything to say about it.

After all, Crow _despised_ the Gothamites.

The people of the city earned her ire as no Gothamite she had ever met had truly befriended her host. As dumb as Chelsie could be at the _best_ of times, Crow was still loyal to her other half, you see, and not a _single soul_ had ever given so much as a _warm smile_ to her Chelsie. For such, she despised the _lot_ of them.

They were no better than a herd of _cattle_, and that herd was slowly being sent to _slaughter_.

How she would _love_ to be the one to send them to slaughter, but she knew she was not _meant_ for that kind of greatness. The one meant to change the world, such as he had _said_ he would, was the Joker.

The Clown was meant for _revolution_, she realized; he was meant to usher in the end of days for Gotham.

Yes, Judgment Day was _coming_ for the Gothamites. If her part was simply to _aid_ the Clown, then so be it; she would play her part _proudly_.

She knew he wanted nothing _more_ than to watch the world burn.

After all, only from _ashes_ can there be rebirth.

Gotham would be like a _phoenix_, the bird girl believed; from its ashes it would rise anew in a more brilliant form built in the image of the man-god that had conquered it.

Yes, all her thoughts were romanticized, but Crow firmly _believed_ the Clown was ahead of the curve.

Only time would tell on whether she was to stay with him or follow the Scarecrow.

And the Scarecrow; what did _he_ want? _Fear_. He wanted Gotham to quake with beautiful, terrible, terribly beautiful _fright_.

He had once _succeeded_ in plunging a part of the city into sheer terror, as Chelsie knew all too well.

For such, Crow had to _admire_ Jonny and his Scarecrow to some degree.

If she found herself following him, she would help him rebuild his toxin business, if such was as he desired, and she would _then_ proceed to be his loyal little agent of _fear_. She could be his accomplice and help round up victims for his tests.

_Of course_, she might persuade him - just a _little_ - to do something _bigger_ than simply study the fears of random Gothamites.

What could be _bigger_, you might ask?

Well, _for starters_, setting free Arkham's crazy _patients_ would certainly stir up some delicious fright.

And, of course, throwing a little _fear spit_ into the mix might only heighten the fun.

Ah, time would tell; time would tell.

* * *

'_What do we __**do**__, then?_' asked Chelsie suddenly, inwardly worried and bringing Crow back to gravity.

"The Clown's game is _over for now_, sweetheart; this means we have only _one_ option," began the bird girl with a sigh. "We turn ourselves in and go to Arkham."

'_**What**_?!' Chelsie cried out in horror.

"Now stop _screamin'_ and hear me out," snapped the blackbird. "We have _two_ criminal masterminds who think they love us and they're both in Arkham. We _also_ have the Bat's true identity. In the end of the end, _sweetheart_, we have to choose whose _side_ we're on."

The host cringed, '_You mean choose which criminal mastermind we're __**in love**__ with?_'

"I imagine we'll be stuck in some kind of _group therapy_ since the Doc probably yapped _all about us_ to his _shrink_," Crow concluded sullenly. "In the end, we have to choose if we _love_ one of them. If neither, we break out alone and fly solo. Understand me, sweetheart?"

'_Yeah. I understand,_' Chelsie reluctantly agreed with an inward sigh.

* * *

It was a sight to behold, really. One week later, she made her move.

Crow, fully clad in costume, snuck herself into Arkham in the middle of the day.

She had simply walked into the employee lounge, startling every employee in the room.

And one such employee, a little blonde-haired, blue-eyed psychiatrist, was Harleen Quinzel.

And that was where Crow/Chelsie now stood.

* * *

"_Hello_, ladies and gentlemen," began Crow theatrically, bowing wide and low. "For my _finale_, I'll be turnin' myself in."

Harleen sat in the back, facing the others. Secretly, she smiled, watching the bird girl with some kind of admiration. Her newest patient was the Joker and all he'd talked about in the last week were _three_ things: chaos, the Batman and _his_ bird girl and her host.

"_Now_, how do I sign up for _treatment_ around here?" asked the blackbird as she rose to full height, looking around the room expectantly, hands to her hips impatiently.

And that was where it all began.


End file.
